#(well my thoughts and link collection only)

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

The Suppressants

Alpha! Joel Miller X Omega!AFAB!Reader

Part One, Part Two

(( it won’t let me post the URL for part one, so please visit the link below to my Master List where you can find Part One!))

The complete Collection: Apollyon’s Master List.

Summary: What do you do when you run out of heat suppressants? You turn to the only person who can possibly get you more medication; even if it means airing your biggest secret. But when Joel doesn’t have what you need you must travel together to meet another dealer. Surely you’ll get more medicine score your heat starts… right?

Warnings: 18+ content, post-apocalyptic world. A/B/O alternative universe, (A/B/O dynamics including: Scenting, Marking, Knotting, Heats) age gap (Reader is 26, Joel is late 40s), reader has been on suppressant most of her life, Joel teaches reader about guns, parental lost (not depicted on page), he falls first, angst(?), gore and violence. SMUT: Fingering, PIV, no use of protection (wrap it up y’all!), slight breeding kink if you squint, knotting, marking, heavy praise kink. ((Please let me know if I missed anything))

The day creeps on into the late evening, and as stars begin to speckle the sky you finally draw yourself away from the window, unable to see anything but your own reflection. Joel sits by the fire, trying to make it seem as if he wasn’t watching you the whole time your back had been turned. He shuffles his legs, picking at the ruminants of the rabbit on his plate.

“He’ll be here.” Joel glances up as you pace over, biting at your thumb nail as you stare into the orange and blue embers.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” But there’s a catch in your voice, your smile wavering slightly when you catch his eye.

He holds your stare for a moment, and you’re unable to hide the pinch of worry between your brow, your smile falling further. “Come on, sit.” Joel nods at your sleeping bag, sliding the rest of the rabbit towards you. “Gotta eat, kid. It ain’t gonna do you any good to make yourself sick while we wait.”

He has a point. You slide your bag closer to him and the fire, crossing your legs as you sit, pulling the plate into your lap. The silence stretches between you, filled only by the pop of the logs in the brick fireplace. You dare a glance towards Joel, finding him leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out and staring into the fire. Both of you lost in your own heads, wondering what could have happened to make Mark so late.

“Let me ask you something.” You’re caught staring, your cheeks flushing as Joel turns to look at you.

“W-What?”

“How long have you been on this medication?”

“Oh um… Eight? Nine years, maybe.” You shrug your shoulder, popping a piece of meat into your mouth.

Joel stares at you, stunned. “That long?” His thoughts turn instantly to how the medication could have affected you, how your body works, down to your biology. He can’t stop the spark of horror showing in his eyes before you notice.

You blanch slightly, stammering over your words. “Well… well yeah. I mean I couldn’t let anyone know, obviously. It’s… mom explained it like it was pretty much birth control. Never have a heat, never have to worry.” You try to shrug it off but Joel shakes his head, turning his body towards you.

“Yeah, but even then birth control isn’t supposed to be used your entire life… Are all of your instincts suppressed?”

The look on his face, how his eyes have grown wider, it makes you fidget. “Um… I guess so. I don’t really know what though.”

Joel shakes his head slightly, finally resting his gaze on the fire. “How come you never decided to find an Alpha to settle with? Someone you trusted?”

Your cheeks grow warm, the plate long forgotten in your lap, staring at Joel as the firelight dances across his features. “Well, I…” You don’t advert your gaze when he looks back at you, your heart steadily beating faster. “I thought about it… but I’m… I’m scared. I’m scared that the moment an Alpha finds out that he’ll use me, strip me of everything I am until I am nothing more than my biology…”

Your words are heavy in the air, the two of you staring at each other as the logs shift and crack in the hearth. Joel sits up a little straighter, resting his arms on his knees and glancing you over, breaking eye contact first.

“You told me.” His voice is gruff, underlying emotions caught at the back of his throat and your eyes widen.

“Of… of course I did-You’re…”

“Different?” He offers, eyebrows lifting, gesturing with a hand. You nod, suddenly all too aware of how close you are to him, how his eyes burn into your own, how he’s a larger than life presence in the room and that…

It doesn’t scare you, nothing about Joel has ever scared you. Unlike most of the Alphas you had the misfortune of crossing paths with.

It’s a startling realization, stealing your breath as you turn away.

Joel is different. He’s always been different.

“Y/n?”

You set the plate down clumsily beside him, the clunk loud on the wood floor, before you stand with your bag.

“I’m tired… do you mind taking first watch?”

Before he can answer you’re walking away, setting your bag down near the wall farthest from his. You crawl in and turn over, the pounding of your heart keeping you up for most of the night.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Day one of staying in the safe house slowly rolls into day two. Then those hours bleed over into day three and the anxiety that was pumping through your veins has morphed and transcended into pure terror.

There is still no sign of Mark as you and Joel pick at breakfast.

There is still no sign of Mark as you pace back and forth across the house when Joel tries to convince you to sit and eat lunch.

Now the sun is beginning to set, and the limitations of your calm have reached a breaking point. The empty pill bottle lays by your bag, an orange beacon of what is to come should Mark never show. The heaviness of the situation is slowly suffocating the air from the room, and there is nothing either of you can do as you wait, and wait, and wait.

Joel watches you from his spot by the window, lines of stress carve your face, your body jerky with how tightly strung your muscles are as you fold another blanket from the pile you had found in one of the back rooms. He isn’t sure what more he can do, though his instincts beg to comfort you, to take you in his arms and soothe your fears. But he knows it would be a lie, that as soon as the medication begins to work out of your system you’ll go into heat at any given moment, if not immediately.

He glances out the window for what feels like the hundredth time, willing the short blond man to materialize on the empty street.

Your breath is staggered in your lungs, panic slowly tightening its grip around your neck by the minute, no matter how hard you try to keep it at bay. You toss another blanket onto Joel’s sleeping bag before bending to pick up the next, shaking it free of the dust that had gathered over the years. You try to focus on the feeling of the soft material beneath your fingers, or the way the particles float through the air, catching the sunlight. You count the blankets in each pile, trying to even them out.

“One, two, three-“

“Honey.”

You jump at Joel’s deep voice, turning to find him staring at you, his arms folded across his chest, his eyebrows pinched once more. “Y-Yes?” Your eyes flickering to the door expectantly, a spark of hope wishing to fan to life.

Joel rolls his lips together, adverting his gaze. “Ya might wanna take all those blankets into that back room… Make somewhere comfortable for yourself later.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach, the feeling flooding from your hands as the blanket falls to the floor. “W-What? Why?”

“I don’t think Marks going to make it.” Joel watches the color drain from your face in an alarming amount of time, his back stiffening as he pushes off the wall, suddenly afraid you’re going to faint as you sway on your feet.

“N-no… No.” Denial takes a head, your eyes becoming watery. “He said he would be here, he-he has to be here!” Despair makes you raise your voice, and the look of pity in Joel’s eyes only makes the feeling worse. “Why isn’t he here?”

Shaking his head, Joel runs his hands through his hair. “Darling I wish I knew. There’s a number of things that could have happened. From him deciding what I was trading wasn’t good enough to he could have possibly been attacked.” Joel’s words hold reason, and you want to accept them, you want them to make you feel better, to understand that this journey was a risk with no guaranteed reward.

“I can’t go through this Joel. I can’t.” Your voice breaks as he becomes blurry, tears burning your eyes that refuse to fall just yet. “I can’t go home, I can never go back to the QZ.”

“Baby… Yes you will.”

“No I can’t! The moment I get remotely close to those walls an Alpha is going to hunting me like I am some kind of-“

Joel is suddenly before you, gripping your shoulders, and his solemn features are extremely clear as the first tear falls. “Ain’t no one, and I mean no one gonna lay a finger on you. I wont let that happen.”

“I’m an unmated Omega, Joel…” You whisper, trembling under his grip. “I’m prey.”

The words are heavy, laden with the truth. Where as the few mated Omegas there are, are relatively safe in the presence of their Alpha or pack, an unmated Omega is injured prey in a room full of predators.

Joel cusses, his grip tightening ever so slightly, fingertips digging into your sweater. He ducks slightly, bringing himself to your level, and this close you can see the slightest specks of colors hidden amongst the brown in his eyes. Golds and greens swirling together. You get so lost in the depths of them for a moment that you start slight when he speaks.

“Listen… I’ve been thinking about this and I just… You need to hear me out, alright? You know I’d never do nothing to hurt you, but this is the only option I see.”

Hesitation bubbles uncomfortably in your stomach, your nod small as you suddenly realize how close you both are, how strong his smell is growing.

Joel swallows thickly, searching your eyes. “Let me mark you.”

You gasp, pulling away and Joel lets you, raising his hands in the air as you stare in growing disbelief. “What?”

Joel rushes to explain, sensing the rising fight that is about to ensue. “After. After you get through your heat, when it’s time for us to leave let me lay a mark on you. It wont be a mating mark, just a claim. Any Alpha that dares to come near you will scent me immediately.”

A trembling hand flutters to your throat, the most traditional place for a mark of any kind. “That’s… That’s a really big commitment Joel…” You breath, looking up at the older man. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t ask that of you.” The thought of bearing Joel’s mark though makes the blood in your veins feel thick, something deep in your stomach clenching as you imagined what it would feel like, how his mark would appear on your skin.

“You aren’t ask anything of me, Y/n. I am offering you a solution.” Joel insists.

A solution.

Is that all it is?

Though claims are not as strong as Mating marks, Joel’s scent would be imbedded into your very being; and as he said, not a single person would dare mess with you. Him being one of the most powerful people in the QZ… But there is something whispering at the back of your mind, a fleeting feeling of disappointment that startles you.

Is this just a man doing whatever it takes to uphold his bargain?

“I mean… I understand. It-It’s just… what if there is someone you find later on, they aren’t going to be happy that you have already marked another person.” You feel stupid just saying that, but apart of you wants to know, some part that is is suddenly feeling small and insecure as you stare at Joel.

Joel’s smile is bemused, the corners of his lips hardly lifting as he cocks his head. “I ain’t been worried about such things for a long time, darling.” There’s a gleam in those brown eyes as he looks at you, “Is that a problem for you?”

Your skin flushes, the color filling the apples of your cheeks, and you can no longer hold his stare. Joel takes a testing step forward, and when you don’t retreat, he closes the distance. He curls a thick finger under your chin, tilting your head up with no where else to look but at him. Your pupils are blown out, covering the beautiful color of your irises, and he feels the slight bit of weight as you seemingly, unknowingly press your chin into the warmth of his hand. “Hmm?” He prompts, easing a little closer, the toes of his boots brushing yours, and you squirm in place. His presence is overpowering, making you feel small in a way that has your breath hitching. “Got someone you’re sweet on?”

The low rumble of humor in his voice makes you blink, stuttering your answer. “What? No-No of course not…” You think back to the conversation just a few nights ago, how you realized that you found more than comfort in Joel presence and you suddenly feel as though you’ve been doused with cold water.

His smile grows with your silence, a dimple peaking through the scruff of his beard, those crows feet reappearing by his eyes as he slips his hand along your jaw. “No one? Not a single soul?” He teases, his voice soft like the stroke of his fingers over the back of your jaw. You push his hand away, turning your back to him as you shake your head in embarrassment.

“I’ll consider it.” You mumble over your shoulder, a shudder ripping through you.

“That’s all I am asking for.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

As the sun dips past the rising building, needs you’ve never felt before begin to surface with the creep of night. Sitting on the floor of the back room, you readjust blanket after blanket to your liking. Every one that Joel lays out you have to pull and tug into the right place, wadding up some and discarding others.

Joel watches you, patient as he follows your instructions on how to help as you make your bed. You worry your lips between your teeth, sitting back on your heels as you stare at the mess before you. “It’s alright, your instincts to nest are starting to come out. It use to be that when Omegas lived with their Alpha’s they would have specific rooms designed just for their nests.” His voice is calm, trying to quell your anxiety.

“Really? That must have been nice…”

“It was. The space was sacred to an Omega, it was completely filled with things that they desired and found comfortable as well.” An intrusive thought fills Joel’s mind, an image of you, curled up amongst soft blankets and pillows. Your face no longer pinched with fear, instead soft with contempt.

Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, a sheepish look crossing his features as you shake your head. “Something is missing… It doesn’t smell right… I need…” You whisper dies off as you look over, catching Joel’s stare. Your eyes move lower slowly, zeroing in on the dark green flannel he has thrown on over his t-shirt. Joel follows your gaze in confusion, cocking an eyebrow.

“Whatcha’ need, sweetheart?”

You swallow, his scent had been filling the room over the last few hours, calling to you, blanketing your nerves. He smells of pine woods, and whiskey, and the way a campfire clings to your clothes the next day. It’s intoxicating, a mouth watering scent you could easily become addicted to.

“Could… Could I have your flannel?” You can barely get the words out, embarrassed by the need for his scent to feel comfortable in your nest.

Joel stares at you in surprise, his eyes widening. “My shirt?”

You smooth out a wrinkle in the blanket you’re sitting on, unable to look him in the eyes as you stammer. “You… You smell good and it-it’s been comforting this entire trip…” Whatever you could possibly say to justify your request dies in your throat, sizzling with shame.

The room is quiet for a long moment before Joel moves out of the corner of your eye. He rolls his shoulders back, working the garment off his arms and handing it over. “There ya go.”

Your hand trembles minutely as you take it, his eyes locked with yours as you draw it to your chest, your heart pounding in your ears.

Joel’s next breath is cut short, a sweet smell beginning to permeate the air and he realizes your medication is leaving your system. Your natural scent is sweet, like peaches and chocolate, and something fresh like the first rain of spring.

It makes Joel’s stomach tighten, fire starting to kindle low in his groin, and he realizes he needs to put distance between the both of you while he can.

“I’m going to get you some food.” he stands from the crate and your gaze follows, traveling up the expanse of his body. Past his long legs clad in dark denim, past his tapered waist; further up his wide chest and corded arms until your focus is finally of his face.

You’re noticing things you hadn’t before, like how his salt and pepper beard has a heart shaped patched just under his jaw. The wild way his hair curlers, framing his face, and once more you’re drawn to the set of his lips. They look soft, warm, like they would move perfectly against your own.

“Honey?”

Joel’s thick accent washes over you, and a blazing heat licks up your spine making you whimper. Pain rips through your abdomen, your body suddenly feeling wound tight full of sudden need that leaves your panties slick.

His eyes widen, hit by the full volume of your scent as it perfumes and envelopes the room.

“Fuck, I’m-“

“You’re in heat.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

If you had to take a bet on who would be the first to break, you would have bet on yourself.

And you would have lost.

48 hours of hell.

48 hours of crying and silently begging for anything to end the pain.

Your fingers have hardly dented your heat, whatever relief you can bring yourself is too short lived, the agonizing pain eating you up until the point you’re certain you will die in this cramped little room. Joel’s flannel is damp with tears as you burry your face into the wad of material, the scent bringing you as much comfort as it brings you pain. The need for him is becoming too much.

You want to scream for him, beg for him to fix it the only way an Alpha can, but you force yourself to bite your lip.

The floorboard creaks suddenly on the other side of the door, and you know it’s Joel, checking on you once again, unnecessarily taunting you with what you can’t have. You whine, frustration eating at you as your hand cramps once more between your slick thighs, forcing you to stop rubbing cruel circles around your clit. You stare up at the ceiling, tears spilling along your temples and catching in your damp hair as you count the cracks in the drywall. Anything to focus on that isn’t the pain and need between your legs, or the way your skin sticks together with sweat.

The moment is to short lived and your body is moving, trying to find a comfortable position as you roll onto your knees, pressing your chest to the mound of blankets. You groan softly, letting your weight rest on your chest as your knees slide apart, your hand once again finding your pulsing clit. Burying your face into Joel’s flannel you huff a sigh, working yourself towards a quick high when the sound of the brass doorknob turning catches you off guard.

You shoot up, wrapping one of the loose blankets around your naked form just as Joel steps into the room.

Embarrassment and shock keep your tongue glued to the roof of your mouth as you stare at each other. The dying sunlight in the room casts him in shadows, his tan skin appearing darker, but his eyes shine as they rake over you.

He is quick to note the change in your smell, how the stress and pain have caused your scent to become overly sweet like turned fruit. The next thing he notices is his crumpled shirt, and the bright flush of your cheeks as you tighten the blanket around you, sweeping the garment underneath. Joel steps closer and you lean back, your breath hitching at the hunger in his eyes.

“Joel…” You try to warn, but he cooes softly and your cunt clenches at the noise.

“baby doll…” Tears fill your eyes at the softness of his tone, and he hurts to ease your pain. “Let me help you, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, ragged like he hadn’t spoke in days.

“No-No… I’m okay, I’ve got in under control.” You lie even as your body begs for the help.

Joel gets to his knees before you, hands clenching over his thighs. Your cheeks are bright red, your hair in a tangled mess on top of your head from where you had tried to tie it up. He has to keep himself from follow the beads of sweat that roll down your jaw before disappearing down the curve of your neck.

“I can’t sit out there a moment longer, listening to you crying and whimpering. It’s just me, you know you’ve always been safe with me.” You don’t reply, your eyes squeezing shut as a sharp shudder rips through you and it tugs at his heart. “Can I come closer?” You freeze, realizing that he’s asking to come into your nest. A delicious feeling of comfort rolls over your muscles at the idea, and you nod slowly.

Joel’s knees pop and creak as he climbs onto the pallet behind you, where he grips your shoulders and digs his thumbs into the tense muscles.

A small sob rips from your chest, leaning heavily into his grip. “I’ll do whatever you need, just say the word. If I need to leave I will, if I need to just sit here a while and talk you through this I can. But I can’t sit on the other side of that door and listen to you cry.”

His words simmer through your mind, stinging your already aching heart, and another sob is forced from your throat. Joel hushes you softly, his rough palms slipping up your neck then back down, as he pulls you back letting you rest against his chest.

Joel’s warmth bleeds into your own but it feels different, soothing. His scent is the strongest it’s ever been, filling your lungs with each shakey breath, and you feel something shift. Hushed words muddle together in your ears, your head leaning back against his chest as a breathy moan leaves your throat.

Without thought your hips begin to grind slowly, need pulsing so hot and heavy between your thighs that your hand travels down thoughtlessly. Your breath hitches as your fingers swirl around your swollen clit, slipping through your lips and pressing into your opening.

“Little Peach.” Joel’s voice is gruff, and another sob spills from your lips.

“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t ask for this Joel, I didn’t ask to be born like this.” Before you can snatch your hand away, horror flooding through your body, Joel is there. His hand finds an opening in the blanket so loosely wrapped around your body, gripping your wrist stopping you.

“I know… I know you didn’t but there ain’t no reason to fight it now baby. It’s said and done.” His clauses are rough against your skin, and you hold your breath as he covers your hand with his own. “Use me. Take what you need, whatever it is.”

Your eyes are droopy with lust when you turn your head to look up at him, the softest whimper leaving your lips when Joel shifts behind you , pressing the hard ridge in his pants against your back.

“I…” You swallow, thighs trembling as you feel your laced fingers brush the thatch of curling hair covering your pussy. “I don’t want to make you do anything…”

When he chuckles the sound reverberates through your back, “Darlin’,” He drawls the word out close to your ear, “You didn’t make me stay, you didn’t make me come in this room. And you certainly aren’t making me do this.”

He emphasizes his point by tracing the drenched slit of your cunt, earning a high pitched squeak. “Fuck, peach… So wet, she’s just fucking dying for some attention isn’t she?”

Your head, feeling heavy, falls back against his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut as bliss fills your body. Joel tugs testingly at your blanket and when it slips from your fingers, Joel pulls it away revealing your body to him.

Joel sucks in a breath, his pupils dilating as he drinks in the sight of you laid out between his legs. Your chest rises and falls with each quick breath, the sheen of sweat gleaming on your body in the dim golden light of the room. “Look at you…” A hunger permeates his words, his breath growing more ragged as he draws a delicate circle around your clit, eliciting a gasp. “You are beautiful, so very, very beautiful.”

Your hips circle, seeking more of anything he is willing to give you. “Please, I need you… I need you, Joel.” You turn your face into his neck, your breath fanning over his skin.

“Ain’t gotta beg, pretty girl. I’ve got ya.” His fingers draw lazy patterns around your clit and you moan, slow and drawn out, hips bucking as he keeps a steady pace. Joel works you up easily with a few expert swipes, your back bowing as your orgasm crashes through you. Your cries of ecstasy are muffled against his throat, thighs squeezing his hand.

He shushes you as you float back to reality, gasping for breath as you relax against him; your muscles loose, bones feeling like jello. “Atta girl, easy Peach.”

You try to catch your breath, reviling in the small reprieve he’s given you. “peach… why peach?” You whisper, making Joel chuckle softly.

“It’s all I can smell ever since your medication wore off. Peaches and chocolate .”

You hum, a small smile playing at your lips. “Are you sure the chocolate bar didn’t melt in my bag?”

Joel smiles, lazily dragging his fingers across your stomach. “Yeah, I’m sure. Bakers chocolate doesn’t smell this sweet.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and your heart flutters, a calm washing over your mind at the same time a spark flairs to life in your stomach.

You lean back, eyes hazy, lids heavy matching the look of his own. The few seconds you spend staring at each other feel like an eternity before you close the gap.

It’s hesitant, as most first kisses are, a little puff of surprise between your lips before they seal together. Finding the rhythm that works so well as one moans softly and the other swallows the noice. Your hand slips up his chest, feeling the wild thump of his heart before it travels up his neck to rest against his jaw.

Joel helps you as you turn, never letting the kiss break as you shakily straddle his lap, pressing your body tight against his own. The spark catches quickly, setting fire to your body as you grind against the hard bulge in his pants. His hands grip the dent of your waist, encouraging your movements with soft squeezes, while you tug fitfully at his shirt.

“More.” You mumble against his lips, letting your heat take the lead, turning off all thoughts of shame as his shirt slips up and you lay your hands on his bare skin for the first time. He pulls the shirt off completely and you lean back, admiring him with lust blown eyes. Joel sighs softly, his head dropping back as your fingers run through the dense curling hair across his chest. His body is strong, sculpted by years of manual labor and survival, yet his stomach is a little soft with age. You scratch your nails down his stomach lightly, following the trail of hair down to the buckle of his jeans and Joel closes his eyes.

“I want you.” You lick your lips, salivating at the thought of what lies just below the thick blue denim. Joel moans again, his chest rising with the need for air as he nods.

“Gonna need to work you open for me, honey.” He breaths, his eyes falling to where your hands fumble over the button of his jeans.

“Just… I just need you, it’s okay.” There’s a frantic note to your voice, all logic thrown out the window at this point, need and instinct pushing you forward.

Joel sees this, and slips his hand around your throat, squeezing softly and forcing you to sit back, ignoring your desperate whine. “Ima give you what you want, but you’re gonna listen to me little girl. Am I clear?” There’s a touch of command in his voice, forcing your gaze to his and waiting until you finally nod your understanding.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours, sneaking his other hand between your bodies, stroking your pussy. You groan, eyes fluttering closed as your grind yourself against his hand, supporting yourself by gripping his arm. “That’s it… go ahead baby…” Joel’s voice is hoarse, his pupils dilated as he sinks two fingers into your heat. You gasp at the sudden stretch, the burn of his thick digits spreading you open. Your jaw falls slack, eyes rolling up as bliss radiates through your body. “Fuuuck, baby girl…” Joel pulls his fingers out before sinking them back in, the calluses he’s built from years of working with his hands rub along your sensitive walls, reaching places you never thought possible. “Y’er so tight… squeezing my fingers like that.” Joel’s Texan twang seeps into his words as his arousal heightens, his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans as he works his fingers in and out, faster and harder, mesmerized by the way your hips buck and twitch; climbing towards your next orgasm. “Come on baby… cum fer me darlin’.”

Your body sings for him, the force of your orgasm shaking you as your back bows and light explodes across your vision. Your thighs quake, Joel’s name falling from your lips as you sob, rutting against his hand as your cunt squeezes his fingers with each radiating wave of pleasure.

The soft, comforting sounds of his approval reaches your ears, his grip slackening around your throat as you slump against him. “So beautiful, cumming all over my fingers like that. I need to see you cum on my cock baby.” His words have you preening, his voice husky as you lean back, your grin lopsided and your eyes glossed over. Joel strokes a thumb over your cheek, and you turn your head, kissing his palm. “Lay back for me. Let me take care of you.”

With much effort you manage to lay back in your nest, your legs spread, hips circling invitingly as Joel climbs to his feet, finally stripping off his jeans. All that remains in the way of what. You need the most, are his thin pare of threadbare boxers. Your mouth salivates at the bulge in his underwear, giving you a good peak at the size of his member hiding just underneath. “How do you want me?”

Your voice is so soft, yet wrecked with lust, ready to please Joel. He smiles, his cock twitching. “why don’t you roll over for me huh? That’s right, goood girl.” You follow his instructions, knees slipping on the blanket, head resting on your arms as you try to catch your breath through the thickness of your anticipation.

Dropping his boxers he groans as his cock springs free, bobbing between corded thighs as he takes his place behind you, hands steadying himself on the small of your back. He sighs deeply, cock twitching and knot swelling slightly at the sight of your drenched cunt, inviting him to sink into your heat.

You wiggle your hips impatiently, turning your head and catching sight of him leaning over you, the predatory hunger in his gaze. “I know… I know you need this little one.” His voice drops to a husky vibration in his wide chest and all you can do is nod, your tongue feeling thick in your mouth. “It’s alright baby, I’ll make it better.” Gripping his cock, Joel glides his fingers over the long length of his shaft, teasing the throbbing vein running up his cock before slipping the flushed tip through your folds.

“Please… Please Alpha.” You beg through thick tears, gripping the faded purple blanket below you as Joel notches his cock against your entrance. He presses his hips forward, both of you moaning loudly as he sinks into your warmth. “Joel…” You simper, rocking your hips back, attempting to take more of him. You thought his fingers had been a stretch, now you understand why he was so adamant about opening you up. His cock is long and thick, spearing you open and stretching your walls in ways that feel like you might be ripped in two at any moment.

“Fuck… fuck y’re so tight.” Joel breathes raggedly, his focus torn between not busting right here and now and not thrusting into you savagely. “Easy baby, gotta stretch you out nice and slow.” You mewl, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel him slipping deeper and deeper with small thrusts. every ridge and bump rubbing across your sensitive walls, working you higher and higher.

A hand travels up your bowed spine, gripping your neck and pressing your face into the blankets. “This sweet pussy must have been made for me, huh? the way she squeezes me so tight.” Joel curves over you, his weight settling against your hips as he drives forward, burying himself to the hilt. You squeal at the sudden force, your legs shaking and weak profanities spilling from your lips.

Joel chuckles quietly, bracing his weight on his hands, trapping you below him. “You can take it can’t you baby? You’re doing so well.” He rocks back, sliding out a few inches before burying himself back into you, a gruff moan falling from his lips. He continues his shallow thrusts, like he can’t stand the thought of leaving your drooling cunt for to long.

“Y-yes, yes Alpha.” You stutter, the euphoria coursing through your body threatening to break your mind, as the engorged head of his cock presses against a sensitive spot along your gummy walls. “Please… Please I’m gonna-!” Your muscles lock, mouth agape, as your orgasm suddenly begins to crest.

With a growl, Joel presses his forehead between your shoulder blades. “Cum for me.” He grunts, already feeling his heavy balls drawing tight as your cunt starts fluttering. “Cum for me and I’ll give you my knot.”

A shrill scream bubbles out of your throat, your body jerking below his as you fall into that black pit of pleasure. Joel’s hand slaps over your mouth, muffling your cry of pleasure as his head shoots up, eyes locking on the window for the briefest of moments. “There you go baby, let go for me.” He breathes into your ear, pulling you tight to his chest as he plows himself into your pliant cunt. Fat tears spill over your cheeks, your desperate whines and whimpers caught in his meaty palm as his thrusts become harder, deeper, faster.

“This little pussy, she’s just begging for my cum.” The rhythmic sound of his hips snapping against your ass fills the room, just below it is the sloppy sound of his cock spearing into you. You nod weakly, working your hips back to meet him thrust for thrust and he grins. The look almost triumphant. “Yeah she does… Gonna let me breed her, huh? Gonna let me fuck her full of me?”

Joel drops his hand, circling your throat holding your head against his shoulder. “Yes! Yes oh god, cum in me, cum in me please!” Your cry is all he needs, his control snapping as he bully’s his cock against your cervix.

Joel grunts, his eyes closing and head tilting back as the first jet of cum paints your walls. You squeal, a noise so high and piercing that Joel jerks slightly. His knot swells stretching your cunt beyond what you think you can take, locking you to Joel.

“Fuck baby… you can take it, let go and relax.” He whispers, nipping your shoulder as he grinds his hips against your ass, his spend filling you to the point it has no where else to go, your stomach bulging ever so slightly before it leaks past his knot.

You whimper softly, your thoughts dissipating completely as Joel pants above you. He slowly rolls you both on to your side, cradling you close as he pulls a blanket across your shivering body. Smoothing the sweaty hair from your face he rains kisses down on your shoulders and neck, hushing your whimpers with praises, even as his cock still twitches in your depths.

“I’ve got you, rest baby, I’ve got you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hng- Joel… oh god…” Your head lulls back, Joel’s hand keeping you from hitting the floor as he cradles your neck. Fingers twitching around locks of grey hair, you moan Joel’s name as he drags his cock from your sodden pussy, only to press back in a second later.

Fingertip shaped bruises and dark red love bites littler your body, mirroring Joel’s. A new one popping up every few minutes, consequences of how you’ve spent the last four days.

Even now, Joel circling a pebbled nipple with the tip of his tongue, laving the delicate skin before pulling it into the warmth of his mouth. Your jaw drops, back arching in a silent plea for more, which Joel is happy to accommodate. His teeth scrape over the sensitive peak, sucking deeply before twirling his tongue around your nipple.

You bask in the feeling, your senses having finally starting to become your own as your heat subsides. You tug on Joel’s hair, pulling him from your breast with a wet pop, his brown eyes meeting your own. They’re heavy with lust, soft pants falling from his lips as he grinds against your core. Snuggly wrapped in your wet warmth, his hips barely move as he languidly fills you with every inch he has. The course hairs at the bottom of his shaft, made sticky with the mix of your releases, rubs against your swollen clit; giving it the right amount of friction to keep you on the edge of bliss.

You drag Joel’s lips to your own, moaning as he sweeps his tongue into your mouth, tasting you in the same manner as which he ravishes your body. Pulling back Joel stutters for breath, taking in the rose color of your kiss bitten lips, the seemingly permanent stain of color on your cheeks, how your eyes shine with need as they never leave his.

You lean up, pressing kisses along his jaw, down his neck tasting the salt on his skin. Joel’s hand moves from its place in the bend of your knee, to the plush of your hip, holding you as close as he can. He can hear you breathing in his scent with soft little whimpers, your hands gripping at him as if he is likely to disappear at any given moment.

Joel knows the feeling too well, it threatens to cave his chest in, to pull him into an inky void of loneliness if you decide, by the end of this, that it was all a big mistake. His long fingers tangle into your hair, pulling you from the crook of his neck with ease to stare into your laden eyes.

“You look so pretty like this.” Joel’s voice is thick, sticking in his throat. You make a soft noise of appreciation, rolling your hips to meet his shallow thrusts.

Joel’s pace slowly increases, his cock sliding further and further out before finding home again. Your lashes flutter, gasping quietly as he presses his forehead to yours.

“J-Joel…”

“I want to mark your pretty little neck, I don’t ever want to let you go.” A whine falls from your lips at a particularly hard thrust, your pussy becoming more sensitive, your bud grinding against his pelvic. “Want to keep you all to myself, keep you covered in my scent and filled with my cum.”

Joel moans as your cunt flutters, your legs starting to shake, nails digging into his shoulders.

You nod your head, bliss building under your skin. “Joel… Joel!” He leans closer, practically bending you in half as his grip tightens on the back of your neck.

“Say it baby, tell me I can mark you. Tell me your my Omega.“

“I’m yours! M-Mark me Joel, please!”

With a harsh thrust Joel sends you spiraling, dropping you over the edge into oblivion as his teeth sink into the thin skin of your neck. Your eyes widen, your grip tightening around Joel as the new sensation washes through your body.

For the briefest of moments you can feel everything Joel does, though his emotions pelt you so rapidly you can’t catch on to any of them before he draws away. There’s blood on his lips, a needy manic look in his eyes as his hips falter, moans falling off his tongue as he fucks into you. Joel grips the backs of your thighs, bending you in half, letting gravity work with him as he bears his teeth and molds your pussy to the shape of his cock.

“Mine, my sweet Omega. All mine.” Little whimpers and babbled prayers leave your lips, too limp and compliant below him to do much else. You watch his face twist, his nose scrunching, lips pulling back from his teeth, eyes closing as the first twitch of his cock sends a jet of seed deep into your cunt.

Knot catching, plugging your dripping hole, Joel collapses, hardly catching himself from crushing you under the heft of his weight. Your thighs burn from the stretch, your limbs loose and yet tight all at once as he nips and peppers your jaw and throat with kisses. Your head falls to his chest, a wave of exhaustion crashing into you as Joel rolls you both over, welcoming your weight on top of him.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“We’ve used up most of our food, but that doesn’t mean we can’t hunt down a few rabbits to hold us over until we get back.”

Joel squats by the packs, sorting through them, transferring all of the lighter things to your bag. You watch from the center of your makeshift nest, now fully dressed in your travel clothes, your eyes trained on each item he rearranges as your fingers pick at the blanket below you.

A large part of you doesn’t want to leave this room, it wants to stay buried in your nest with Joel beside you. Never to emerge again, growing oblivious to the world outside. But you know that isn’t how it works, that you have to take the next steps and navigate this new life ahead of you.

Joel doesn’t need to look at you to see your discomfort, your scent gives you away. The sweet smell now is too strong, bordering on sour. He looks over his shoulder, catching your eye. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it?” You look like your verging on tears, your lip starting to tremble. Joel sets the bag down, his eyebrows furrowing as he turns fully. “I’ve never… I’ve never lived as an Omega, Joel. I-I mean, yeah I have been an Omega this whole time but I’ve lived as a Beta, I didn’t have to worry about going out of my apartment, I never had to fear an Aloha taking interest in me. I-I don’t know what to do with all of these emotions and-and feelings burning in my chest.” Tears spill over your cheeks and Joel quickly moves to you, sitting on his knees in front of you. You suck in a harsh breath, a sob threatening to swallow your words. “I don’t want to leave my nest.”

“Baby…” Joel pulls you into his lap, cradling you as he smooths a hands down your back. “I’ve got you baby girl.” He whispers into the crown of your hair, your sobs wracking your body as you cling to his jacket. “You aren’t alone, I’m here and like I’ve said, I ain’t gonna let a thing happen to you. You’ll still live your life just as you did before. We just need make a few changes is all.”

You sniffle with a nod, closing your eyes as you inhale his scent. “I’m sorry.” You mutter timidly.

“Ain’t gotta be sorry. Just need ya to trust me, okay?”

“O-okay…”

*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun is so bright after being locked inside the house for so long, you squint at your surroundings as Joel ushers you outside and down the steps. You look around at the sunny world, the bright lights and hues of approaching fall. It all feels so conflicting with the turmoil of emotions you feel inside.

You start down the walk way, Joel’s presence at your back, he’s talking about the trip home, how often you both will need to stop, the things that need to be restocked. Vaguely you are listening, your focus drawn to everything around you, something wrong scratching at your bones as you turn onto the street.

You draw to a halt, your breath leaving your lungs in a whoosh before you stumble back, knocking into Joel.

“Oh my god.” You gasp. Joel goes ridged, seeing the body splattered across the road at the same time you do. His gun is drawn in seconds, coming around you, instantly scooping the surrounding areas and you are following suit. Your gun trembles between your palms, your heart pounding in your ears as Joel takes steady steps towards the corpse. “Joel…” Your voice is hardly a whisper, your eyes darting away to the darkened openings of the building on every side of you.

“Fuck…” Joel’s voice is louder than you expect, your skin prickling under your clothes.

“Wh-what is it?”

“Mark.” Widened eyes shoot to his, your mouth dropping open in shock. Joel glances at you briefly before crouching down, grabbing Mark’s bag and dragging it to his side. Quickly looking away you swallow the growing vile rising in your throat at the glimpse of his desecrated body. Despite the hefty distance you can smell the copper tang of Mark’s blood, can see the pool of it dried against the black asphalt and the flies that buzz about his body.

“Your pills are here.” Joel’s knees pop as he stands, heaving the bag over his shoulder as his gaze snags on you. Your body trembles like an unsteady fawn, eyes riveted to the ground before you as you gulp in lungfuls of air. He sighs, glancing down to step around the dealer as he speaks. “Hey, it’s al-“

His next words are lost in a flurry of motion, a yell erupting from his throat as he’s slammed to the pavement, sliding across the rough ground as a weight lands on his body.

The rotting stench wafts into his face, just before graying chipped teeth gnash mere inches from his throat. A scream rips from you at the same time the creature shrieks, struggling against the handle of the shot gun pressing into its throat as Joel struggles to fight against its weight.

Without thinking you raise the gun, the crash corse you learned running through your brain all at once. You aim and fire, the first bullet whizzing past its head feet to the left. The thing claws at Joels thick jacket, looking for a hold to retch itself closer as Joel kicks out his legs, tangled in the bag he had dropped.

The next shot burst into the ground, a foot above Joel’s head and you cry in frustration, anger filling your bones, burning your nerves as you scream. “FUCK!”

You step forward, one arm lifting as you aim, twisting your wrist as you squeeze the trigger.

Everything goes still, your heart, Joel’s breathing, as the zombie drops. the ruminants of its head splattered across the ground and Joel hefts its body to the side, rolling out from under it. A nervous laugh builds in your throat, your hand trembling worse than ever but you can’t bring yourself to lower your gun. Joel looks up at you from the ground, his chest heaving and eyes wide as he takes in your stance.

“D-Does he l-o-o-ook like a BITCH?!” Your voice rings off of the surrounds walls, hysteria making you stutter as you recall the only line you could think of. Joel springs to his feet, despite his bodies protest, and quickly makes his way to your side. Slowly he pries the gun from your hand, turning you away from the body of the cordio before he scoops up the fallen bag and drags you from the bloodied mess.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The fire crackles lowly, just barely lighting the area around it as night descends over the forest. You sit on the moss covered floor, knees tucked into your chest as you stare at the glowing embers, watching as they flicker in and out. Joel is across from you, his knife chipping away at a branch, whittling the wood down into a small figure, hidden in the width of his palm. The boarders of the QZ sit just a mile away, waiting for your return, but what is it you are returning to? The trip back had been far quieter than before, you had retreated into yourself, haunted by the question.

The bottles of pills are a reminder every time they jostle and make noise in your bag. Would you go back to taking them, only to risk reliving this trip all over again? What is your life now if you don’t take them? Do you live with Joel now or on your own? The mark on your neck burns at the thought of being separated from your mate, a concept your hormone free brain is having a hard time understanding.

“I can hear you thinking.” His gruff voice makes you jump, your eyes darting to his, blinking away the bursting dots of light that cloud your vision from staring at the fire for so long.

“What?”

Sighing he tilts his head to the side, pinning you with the inky depths of his stare. “I can practically hear your mind working itself into a tizzy. Plus you’re flooding me with your emotions, darling.” You blanch, mumbling an apology as you shift in your spot. Joel watches you, like he had the entire way home. The dark circles under your eyes, the dullness of your skin, the soft scared whimpers you’ve made in your sleep these last several nights.

He knows worrying like this will only make you sick, physically and mentally, being an Omega only makes it worse. “Come here.” He opens his arm, signaling for you to curl into his side and its like your body is wired to follow his commands. You move without a second thought, tucking yourself against his side, a weak sigh slipping past your lips. Being this close your muscles relax, your thudding heart slowing to a steady beat to match Joel’s own. “Talk to me, pretty girl.” He whispers, kissing the crown of your head as you shuffle impossibly closer.

After a long moment of silence, basking in the way his hand runs up and down your back, you finally relent. “I am so scared.” You breath, your gaze traveling to the luming walls in the near distance. “I-I know you will do anything to keep me safe but… but there is only so much you can do.” Your words sting, the hushed way you whisper them against his flannel nearly unbearable. Joel tightens his grip on your shoulders, about to deny your claim but you press forward. “Should I take the pills? Save us the trouble? But then we will have to do all… all of this all over again and I just… I don’t know if I can.”

Tears fill your vision, turning your face into his chest as you sob quietly.

“Y/n… baby girl.” He drops his knife to the ground, carding his fingers through your hair, pulling you in tighter. Almost as if he could press you into his very being, keep you there so that you never have to fret or worry again. Joel lets you cry, lets your tears soak through his shirt until there is nothing left but a few soft hiccups in your breath and your sagging against him for support.

“Look at me, peach.” His fingers sweep under your chin, lifting your face to his. Your eyes are swollen and red, your face blotchy but he cooes softly. His heart hammering against his own ribs but he can’t let you see that. Not yet. Not when there is still so much you have to face and need his strength for. “If you want to take the pills that is entirely up to you, I don’t have a say in the matter.”

“But you’re my-.”

“No. No matter what I am to you, I don’t have a right to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do with your own body. But,” He holds your stare for a moment, searching your tear stricken face. “But if you decide not to take them, you need to trust me. My scent is already marred into your skin, anyone can tell you are mine with or without being able to tell you are an Omega under neath. I’ve got you, you just need to trust in that.” Joel holds so much certainty in his words,so much need for you to trust and understand what he means, what he’s hoping to convey in the silent moments that follow.

You swallow, your throat working and Joel can’t help but to look, to see the mark that rings the side of your delicate neck. Whipping the remnants of your tears with the sleeve of your jacket you give a shallow nod, Joel had always protected you, had always made sure you were never without. Deep in your heart you knew he would hold true to his words, he would do everything in his power to keep you from falling prey to anyone else.

You just needed to trust him.

“Okay…” You breath, nodding your head as Joel does.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, sucking in a deep breath. the fire crackles and pops in the silence that follows, both of you lost in the comforting presence of the other. When Joel leans back there’s a smile playing on his lips. “You’re wrong by the way.”

“Huh?”

“Jules never shoots his gun like that. You’re thinking of Menace To Society.” Your mouth drops open, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief.

“Yes he does! When he has that guy kneeling on the floor!”

Joel laugh with a shake of his head. “Nu-uh sweetheart. You’re wrong.”

You glare up at him, and his smile broadens, “We will just have to see about that.”

Your challenge only earns you a deep chuckle, before he pulls you in, planting a soft kiss on your lips. “What do I get when I prove you wrong?” The suggestion in his words reflect in his eyes, the deep dark brown swimming with excitement. a flush works up your neck, your hand tightening on the front of his shirt. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Too bad we will never find out.” Joel lets out a little growl, squeezing your waist playfully making you squirm.

“Just you wait, little one. You’re in for it.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Tag List: @halfburntout @scorpionsaintt

[sunderingstars]

.✦ ── ✦.

mr. cold feet’s pop-up shop

.✦ ── ✦.

what the stars reveal: interpretative analysis, theory crafting, elation!sampo, sampo!sampo (??), lil bit of emanator!sampo & doll!sampo sprinkled in, list format turned waxing poetic, (as always), general befuddlement, op literally trying to think their way out of a paper bag, hijacked by mundanite assembly halfway through, yap class is now in session

word count: 13.5k 😀

overview: (as of 2.6) summarizing my thoughts on all seven days of sampo’s new shop event! i know i said i was “done” with sampo analysis but… i must…… talk about shiny new event………

sampo analysis masterlist

.✦ ── ✦.

My Main Takeaways

.✦ ── ✦.

— Each Curio exchange is potentially a chronology of his existence, beginning as a conceptual something floating out in the ether, then being “created,” caught, or tethered to a specific form, all the way through his experiences with Aha and the Elation.

— Otherwise, I feel these “Curios” may be stand-ins for things he has created himself or been in the vicinity of at some point. In some way, they likely say something specific about his identity and backstory.

— Mentions of both “Diogenes” and “Icarus” link him to other forms of mythology.

— Sampo does not make money from this event; instead, we the player and Trailblazer do (similar to his mythological function).

— Mentions of the Tavern and several specifically Elation-aligned factions or beings.

— Doubling down on the function of the mythological Sampo and its narrative, including lines from the Kalevala itself!

— These different Curios, if not chronological, may instead be alluding to Aha’s “collection” of masks and items seen in Their splash art. this would place Sampo closer in proximity to Aha Themself, if not being Them, since he would be in the position of the one “collecting” or marketing these items. There is also a chance that Sampo, as per his function, was used by Aha to create the equivalent of these Curios, putting him in that strange “creator but also created” purgatory!

— (The name of the event also emphasizes the “Mr. Cold Feet” moniker, which I’ve talked about in my “Notable Topics” post as being synonymous with his uncanny ability to back out and rethink things he doesn’t want to be a part of. The “pop-up shop” itself is also temporary, which may be hinting at the fact that his identity as Sampo on Belobog may, itself, be a kind of temporary “pop-up event” in the grand scheme of his life.)

— Most confusing conversations and backtracking could be explained by Aha’s “secret” and the idea Sampo can’t say certain things about his identity. Thus, he may have to abruptly distance himself from the Curios in conversation if he feels he’s getting too close to “revealing the truth.”

— The event itself might also be a cry for help to us, the player; maybe he knows there are some things we understand that the Trailblazer doesn’t, such as the names of the achievements on the processing screen. He is trying his best to reach somebody :((

— Every day has two phrases repeated in the flavor text for each Curio: “One-of-a-Kind Curio” and “Collectible and Value-Preserving.” I have a feeling these lines not only refer to the literal objects involved, but Sampo himself. This falls in line with Doll Theory quite well (as Sampo being yet another doll would place him as “collectible” but his potential Emanator or favored status within the Elation could market him as being “one-of-a-kind,” likely due to his Sampo-like nature of being “value-preserving”), but it could also mean any number of things, from a purely Emanator!Sampo to Sampo who was created by a being other than Aha — anything that positions him as “valuable” or akin to an object himself is viable for this interpretation.

— Additionally, I’m not sure how his mask factors into all this — it’s a bit unclear if he even has it back yet, and I can’t find anything in the event that might allude to it. Masks don’t seem to be explicitly mentioned in any way; it must be important to him, so it’s a bit of a head scratcher as to why he doesn’t seem to be talking about it (aside from the whole “secret” thing). If anyone has any ideas, please feel free to let me know, I’d love to hear them!

— Despite the length of this analysis, it’s by no means meant to cover every single possibility; so much of Sampo’s character is up to interpretation, so the theory scene is wide open. I’d love to hear any alternate interpretations you guys have in the comments/reblogs!

Update: Due to new information gleaned from Mundanite Assembly (Unknowable Domain), I believe the pop-up event can have an extra chronological interpretation — Sampo as an elemental force drifting through the ether before being captured and harnessed into a singular form (likely mechanical in nature), then used for increasingly dangerous experiments before, through a series of honestly exhaustive events, finding himself puppeted around for a joke at the Tavern.

I do believe this only leads up to day four or five of the pop-up shop, with days six and seven being interpretative of the time after. (And what Sampo is doing now in the present day, trying to figure out the key to his existence and his past.) This is a tentative theory, but I still wanted to include it. I’ll link my Mundanite Assembly analysis here when I post it!

Another Update: While some of this pop-up event may be referencing events in Mundanite Assembly like day three and its themes of being “stolen from the heavens,” I also think some of it, like the references to toys and especially the last day of trying to understand “past and present lives,” are meant to symbolize recent events, such as his experiences with Elation and his current situation. There’s the possibility that Doll theories and Emanator theories would work in this “gap” — or the time between the end of “Windup World” (around day four) and the “present” (day seven).

When talking about Mundanite Assembly, I will be operating under the assumption that the “you” perspective is Sampo, and addressing him accordingly.

.✦ ── ✦.

Day 1

.✦ ── ✦.

— He “missed us dearly,” which is really sweet! :,)

— He immediately addresses himself as “Old Sampo,” bringing both his name and its associations to the forefront before specifically introducing us to something that “won’t make money” — aka something that we will profit off of and he “won’t,” turning our basic items into rewards like his mythological counterpart.

— He also links this venture to the idea of “fun,” putting his pursuits in the orbit of Elation. I’m inclined to take his word on it, which brings up the question: How does he feel about his “function”? It’s something he seems to be aware of, but is it something he enjoys? Did he give himself the name “Sampo” simply because of what he likes to do, or was it always an immutable part of him, some unavoidable truth he attempts to claim as his own — to exercise his own kind of “Elation” alongside it — so that it wears on him less? Basically, what came first: the name or the action? Is he Sampo because he produces wealth, or does he produce wealth because he is Sampo? Interesting stuff to think about!

— He was lonely… :(((((((((((

— This does put his trip to Penacony in perspective, though: if we assume he’s telling the truth (or at least part of it) here, then his run-ins with certain characters make more sense. He may have used getting his mask back as both a way to accomplish a goal (helping Belobog) and to speak to someone he maybe hadn’t spoken to in a while. Although Sampo does seem to be exasperated by Sparkle and the rest of the Fools quite often, he also seems to harbor a sort of fondness for them. There’s also the possibility he knows other people on Penacony that he wanted to talk to.

— Boothill’s Emanator run-in is also looking more viable here, as a genuinely “lonely” Sampo feels like more of a recipe for a drunken confession of identity! In fact, with some of my interpretations from this event, I could see Sampo and Boothill having quite a bit in common, especially in the vein of just wanting someone to have a good drink with and genuinely talk to.

— Sampo & Boothill underrated friendship for the win! 💪

— I feel like his talk of the meme crate is twofold: one, it is a very real item, and two, it may also be something he uses as a way to talk about himself in a roundabout way, much like the Curios during the rest of the event.

— The timeframe of “eight years” gives us a good benchmark; we now know he’s been on Belobog for at least eight years, and the way he references the crate as being “hidden right here in the Belobogian snow fields!” (coincidentally right where we first meet him in the game) can also be interpreted as a reference to himself. Both he and the crate have been here for at least eight years, with Sampo likely being here longer and simply finding the crate eight years ago. Both he and the crate are implied to have been “hiding in plain sight,” so to speak, and the way he backtracks to ask “so how many years would it be now?” makes me think he really is referring to himself. To me, it very much reads as a genuine attempt to remember how long he’s been on Belobog exactly.

— It also almost implies that for much of that time, Sampo wasn’t near civilization, or at least a part of it. There’s a lonely quality to the crate being left out in those fields all alone for so long, and if it’s meant to mirror Sampo’s journey there’s a chance he was out there all alone for some time as well. :((

— Also, the “meme crate” is specific, and may be alluding to Sampo himself as a creation or otherwise “memetic” entity (which honestly, branches off into a lot of different possibilities).

— Additionally, when he says “after Jarilo-VI returned to the silver rail, I got to know several friends beyond the sky” it seems to have a… weird quality to it. It might just be me, but I feel like this is one of his signature “technically true but not quite” lines — the implication for the Trailblazer is that, just like everyone else on Jarilo-VI, Sampo did not have access at all beyond the planet, and so once that access was gained he began connecting with the rest of the universe like everyone else. However, Sampo doesn’t specify this. He doesn’t say he made his first friends beyond the sky, he doesn’t say he rejoined the universe like everyone else. He words it in a way that isn’t technically dishonest, but that carefully leaves out key details — Jarilo-VI returned to the silver rail, not him; he made several friends beyond the sky, but he doesn’t mention whether he already had other friends out there, or if he was simply reconnecting with former acquaintances. It feels very intentional, and man do I find it interesting! 

— Again, we get some pretty heavy references to the mythological Sampo, with him detailing how he won’t make any money from the event but it will be a “golden money-making opportunity” for us. Here, he doesn’t seem discontented with what he’s doing — in fact, he proposes the idea to us. Aside from the fact he may have to carry out these kinds of transactions to survive or stay alive, it really does come across as something he wants to do — or at least is okay with doing — than something he dislikes. (Or maybe we’re just special and he likes us!)

— Lastly, when he mentions “the tiring, dirty work will be outsourced to robots” I’m not super sure how to feel. On one hand, he could be speaking as a creation himself, ironically going further down the ladder to use those below him as a means to accomplish what he accomplishes for whoever is above him; this would fit with the “dual” nature of many of his remarks, as I do think many of them don’t just refer to what he’s talking about, but also himself. On the other hand, he could simply be speaking from the perspective of a creator, of someone who doesn’t necessarily have a similar function to the robots but just… wants them to take care of things for him. 

— It could even be both if we’re talking about Emanator!Sampo, stuck in this purgatory between using others and being used. Perhaps he is in the “creator” role overseeing these robots while also being in the “created” role under an Aeon at the same time.

— I also feel like this might be a reference to Aha Stuffed Toys — I’ve made a few connections before between the idea of “mass-produced” dolls or playthings from the Aha Stuffed Toy occurrence and the “intact masks” from the Ship of Fools occurrence. If these dolls and masks are one and the same, then the robots Sampo mentions here fill a similar role to the stuffed toys: doing the work Aha doesn’t want to do, taking the brunt of pain and effort so another doesn’t have to.

— We start off with wind, Sampo’s signature element (very fitting!).

— “The Fluid, the Myth, the Legend” is a fun twist on “the man, the myth, the legend” that takes a specific approach to setting Sampo apart from the idea of “man” or any other solidly definable means of mortality. It also gives him a somewhat mysterious, godlike quality, as “myths” and “legends” often have to do with those who are powerful or divine. Also, it’s a nice reference to the mythological Sampo!

— If we take this to have a double meaning for his identity, then the name may be alluding to either his “core” or “base trait” — like the fluidity of a higher being, his element of wind, or even the intangible concept of Elation — or a more literal time in chronology where he was not yet made into form.

— “Give yourself the chance to experience the wonders of controlling an ideal fluid” may point towards his backstory, with something or someone potentially trying to “control” him in his more fluid or conceptual state. Since it’s followed up by a “(Just kidding!)” it seems this attempt at control may not have been successful, or it may just be another way for Sampo to get his Elation in through the event!

— On the Aha side of things, this “fluid” could be a reference to someone or something that is part of Aha’s collection. For this, either Sampo would have to be Aha or part of them somehow, or simply used by Them to create these things!

— I also like how Sampo tries to talk Silver Wolf down from leaving a negative review — although it does seem a bit desperate at the end? If Sampo’s function is being a businessman in a specifically mythologically-relevant niche, then perhaps negative reviews have some kind of deeper effect on him, anywhere from mild discomfort or unease to even pain. Or not, and he just wants his stuff to sell!

— He also gives us a joke afterwards, and even though he says “it’s just a joke,” I feel like it might mean something more. As much as Sampo aligns himself with the Elation, he also has nuanced opinions about it, the kind that go far beyond making simple Masked-Fools-type jokes.

— Even if the “joke” itself is absurd, I still feel like it points towards something about him as a character. “The world brims with narcissistic wisdom. Only a fool knows that they’re all a joke.”

— We can take this two ways: one, Sampo is recounting a joke he’s heard (likely from the Masked Fools) but doesn’t agree with, and two, Sampo is telling a joke he does agree with.

— If he doesn’t agree, he may be trying to put a sort of ironic twist on the way the Fools view things; he recounts the joke to us and says “it’s just a joke” when we express confusion to highlight how contradictory the Fools are — it’s not just that they like telling jokes, but (as Sampo mentions later in the event), they only seem to care about themselves and their own laughter, not the enjoyment or understanding of others.

— If he does agree with the joke, he’s at least expressing a deeper sense of absurdism, something picked up from his time with the Elation that likely offsets despair or pure Nihility when it threatens to consume him. It also reminds me of how close the Elation and Nihility are in concept; the main distinguishing factor is their presentation. (Perhaps Sampo, as someone aligned with both Paths, is trying to express this as well.)

— Or, it’s like he says, and it really is all just a joke. You never can tell with this man!

— Also, his little box is really cute! It’s color-coordinated with a signature rose and even a sticker of Gepard’s drawing! I’m just very emotional about this. He made it his own. ♡

.✦ ── ✦.

Day 2

.✦ ── ✦.

— Specific mention of “meme catalysis” — yet another reference to memes and intangible or created beings.

— “A fire that provokes profundity” is a very specific phrase as well; I’ve already made some speculation as to his relationship with Erudition, since it seems to pop up quite a bit in his related Simulated Universe occurrences (and to be honest, this new Unknowable Domain content has made me do a double take with how much experimentation and creation is going on in the search for knowledge). I feel like, if this is meant to say something about his identity, this phrase would put Sampo in orbit with the Erudition, since it directly contains a reference to gaining knowledge.

— (Note: “Liquid Flame” reminds me of “Dousing Flames” from Mundanite Assembly!)

— “Liquid Flame in Void” carries across similar ideas as the last day — immateriality and pure substance — although this time it is beginning to occupy a more specific niche. Instead of a mythological “fluid,” we have now stepped into “liquid flame,” something more specific in both name and place. No longer is it vaguely floating in the ether, but it directly resides in the “void.” Overall, it’s a more vivid picture than the last.

— Chronologically, I would interpret this as Sampo’s more “ethereal” and original form (whether Aeonic, elemental, or conceptual in nature) growing more distinct, leaving behind his formless existence to become something… more.

— Additionally, despite the reference to knowledge (and by extension, Erudition) earlier, this feels much more Nihility-aligned to me. “If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you” feels like a direct reference to the abyss of IX, although i’m not sure if IX is the type to “gaze” at all.

— (It also links to “Dousing Flames (II),” where the imagery surrounding the Perpetual Motion Project very much reminds me of IX’s Nihility “boundary” (as seen in Acheron’s burst).)

— This could mean several things to me: one, it could simply be alluding to Sampo’s affiliation with Nihility since that is his playable Path; two, it could be indicative of a chronological time where he was alone, abandoned, or hopeless, simply left to stare into a void until he gained some sort of enlightenment (Path-related or otherwise) — for Doll!Sampo or other creation theories, this would likely be when he was physically abandoned on Belobog for a long time; three, it could be another reference to one of Aha’s “collectibles” They or Sampo made; or four, it could be link to some sort of “origin” for Sampo within space, where his slowly-forming self had nothing but the void for company. Or, hell, it could even be some combination of all four!

— “(There is no such function!)” feels contradictory, but that seems to be a running theme so far. All of the parenthesis are Elation-aligned jokes, which may or may not be true. In fact, they may only even be there to mess with us!

— Sampo also seems to refer to something specific in his comment — “there are all kinds of Curios out there,” mirroring both the variety of event items and Aha’s own collection, and “even a bag of trash can have its own unique shine,” which feels like it’s about him specifically. While Belobog itself surely qualifies for these statements as well, it seems that Sampo may be referring to himself from two steps and a third-person point of view away (as he so often loves to do). In this case, “all kinds of Curios” could be a reference to Aha’s splash art collection (and the “collection” of potential dolls in Ship of Fools) and the “bag of trash” could be a reference to Sampo’s specific position within that collection.

— Generally, I take this to mean Sampo is speaking about how he, despite being abandoned or otherwise considered “trash,” has found himself in a collection where he has his own “unique value.” In this case, him being in the proximity of Aha may have a silver lining or even wholesome implication — despite looking into the void, despite being discarded or seen as waste, there was at least one being in the universe who looked upon him and, devoid of shallow pity, saw the value at the core of his being. While it’s possible there may still be a twisted, cruel sort of irony going on, there’s also just as much of a chance that Aha or the Fools have nurtured Sampo in a way he never has been before.

A Note:

— As you may have noticed, I’ve already started to amend my timeline a bit — for those who have read my other posts, especially Doll Theory, I posited Sampo as having a “creation to abandonment to hatred” timeline, but after this event I feel there are some additions and changes to be made.

— If the items in this event are to be taken chronologically, then it’s likely Sampo had a period of “manifestation” or formless existence, then isolation or abandonment, then being stolen or trapped, then created and used before eventually endeavoring to find out, put simply, what the hell is going on.

— It’s possible that I’m misreading the items in the event and they aren’t meant to symbolize Sampo at all, but a few things like being “stolen” line up neatly with Sampo’s mythological counterpart, so I’m willing to consider it an option.

— Moving forward, Sampo says a few key phrases, namely “red and fiery” and “a lucky portent” — the red matches with his jacket color, fiery may allude to his temperament (as mentioned through his “hot-blooded past” later in the event) or even a specific state of being (fire, elemental, combustible, etc.), and “a lucky portent” relates to his function as the Sampo, bestowing wealth and, in a way, “luck” onto others.

— Additionally, if we are considering that Aha may be the one “stealing” Sampo (it certainly lines up with Their personality), this may reference the Aeon Themself scoping out candidates for a pet project or joke, where they are then intrigued by Sampo. “Portent” also ties in to the kind of “butterfly effect” way Aha operates, and they may have seen something greater within Sampo that he himself hadn’t seen. Either way, yoink!

— Next, Sampo directly mentions the Tavern — a shorthand way of referring to the World’s End Tavern operated by the Masked Fools — and surprisingly enough, links it specifically to the idea of storytelling. We get some good tidbits, like the fact he isn’t “all-knowing,” and that there are many stories that would be inconvenient to share.

— On one hand, this implies that whoever Sampo may be (whether he is an Aeon, an Emanator, or some non-mortal third option), he has blind spots. Depending on who exactly he is, this has different implications — for example, an Aeonic Sampo would basically be admitting Aeons (in general, since Nous is probably an exception) don’t know everything despite being at the top of the food chain, meaning they are still fallible; outsmarting them is near impossible but not entirely. Meanwhile, other Sampos may be trying to convey that although they are old and experienced and powerful, they aren’t the answer to everything; there are some things we still need to figure out ourselves.

— Additionally, the aspect of “convenience” could go several ways for me. Either he is genuinely so powerful that he can’t be bothered to tell us everything, he has knowledge of future events and doesn’t want to mess them up, or there is some sort of power above or within him that creates limitations — i.e. “inconveniences” — if he says certain things. Going back to some doll speculation and the idea of a “secret only Aha knows,” there’s a possibility that Sampo mentioning convenience is just a light way of alluding to the fact he can’t say or do certain things, either out of pure inability or the fear of what will happen to him if he does.

— Also, there’s the possibility he did some really fucked up stuff in his past and he doesn’t want to ruin his reputation with us, LOL.

— He mentions how the Tavern has a penchant for stories as well — especially how they “actively” seek those people out and how, apparently, the Trailblazer would be a prime candidate for the Elation in this regard. Beyond the fact this is another little hint at how the Elation (and Aha) tends to take a liking to the Trailblaze (and the Trailblazer), it also may say a little bit about how Sampo came to be there. Setting aside any kind of “stealing” or affiliation with Aha Themself, the Masked Fools tend to actively send invitations to those whose lives they find “interesting” — it’s possible that Sampo found himself the recipient of one of these invitations even if he was already with the Elation, as whatever his backstory is, I’m sure it’s going to be damn interesting!

— The last little bit of Sampo’s dialogue on day two focuses on the idea of “place,” namely the transporting and selling of goods from one place to another. Similarly to the “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” idea going on in the liquid flame comments, there’s the implication here that items, goods, and potentially Sampo himself are all victims of circumstance — just because an item (or Sampo himself) may be considered useless or “trash” in one place, there are many other places that would consider it valuable.

— It also places Sampo as a “go-between,” neither created nor creator but simply a middleman ferrying all these things between places. It lines up a bit with the idea that Sampo, although potentially being stolen or taken by Aha, eventually found himself in a space where he had the freedom to move things from place to place rather than being the one being moved.

— Again with the reference to a “meme”… Sampo what are you trying to tell us…….

.✦ ── ✦.

Day 3

.✦ ── ✦.

— This seems as good a place as any to talk about the phrases that show up when you submit items!

— One: Cute little emoticons, kinda tech-aligned like Curio Hacker. All in all, a nice little touch!

— Two: “Cool Guys.” May be a simple indication of how Sampo tries to come across as a “cool guy” in most of our interactions, but could also be a reference to the achievement “Cool Guys Don’t Look At Explosions,” when you clear Simulated Universe with ten or more Blessings of Destruction. Since the text is cut off so early, I’m not sure if the achievement is actually meant to be referenced here, and admittedly the Destruction doesn’t quite fit in with everything Sampo-aligned so far. However, it could be a link to Sampo’s red, fiery, “hot-blooded” past, or to his “breaking” or destruction in mythology. Additionally, maybe the “hate” behind the “love” could also lead to Destruction. (Plus, the Clown’s Item “Cloud of Doubt” does have a door on fire….)

— Three: “Take It Easy, Icarus” is especially notable because it appears repeatedly in the flash of words. For one, it references an achievement of the same name where you fly a cycrane to “test the limits of its remote control range”. This seems directly Doll!Sampo-related — or at least Creation!Sampo-related — since the entire idea of the achievement is taking an automated object and setting it loose to see “just how far it can go”. Additionally, the “remote control range” sounds very similar to the idea of Aha “not being involved in the quality control process” when it comes to stuffed toys. It’s possible that Aha, either creating Sampo Themself or stealing him from another creator, set him loose upon the universe to see just how far he could go, just how far he could advance his awareness beyond what he was created to be. However, much like the cycrane, there is always an invisible wall to hit. (The achievement is also in the “Fathom the Unfathomable” category, which feels Erudition-aligned.)

— Additionally, the mention of “Icarus” himself creates a link to Greek mythology, with the implication being that Sampo may fill similar themes to this figure, like “over-ambition,” “alienation,” “impulsivity,” and “the consequences of breaking boundaries”. It’s also possible that Sampo, in his attempt to reveal the “truth” or manage the “hate” inside himself, may be flying too close to the sun when it comes to enemies — or “prey” — he sets his sights on. (i.e. if he is angry at a specific Aeon, even Aha Themself, he may be biting off a bit more than he can chew by setting them in his sights.)

— The mention of Icarus could be a kind of warning as well; an indication of someone, perhaps Sparkle or Boothill or a different person, trying to remind Sampo of how dangerous impulsivity and setting his sights too high can be. I can just see Boothill saying something like “take it easy, Icarus” to Sampo over drinks after Sampo explains what he’s planning.

— Four: “This must be a trap crea…” — my best guess is that this is meant to say something like “This must be a trap created by…” or something along those lines. I feel like this might also be a reference to something else in-game, but after searching through the wiki I just couldn’t find anything matching this specific wording. While it does link to Sampo’s “Trap” ability — something both relevant and pertinent to the discussion — I’m afraid the text for this phrase is too cut off to meaningfully find any reference (at least for me). :(

— However, the general idea of “this must be a trap” seems like it could be a part of Sampo’s inner monologue or general feelings about his situation. Perhaps he has misgivings about his affiliation with the Fools, Aha, or the Elation in general, or he could be referring to some other event in his backstory. Maybe it has something to do with “betrayal” or “abandonment,” or perhaps it’s simply what others think of him when they see him. Either way, the idea of a “trap” is very much at the center of this wall of text.

— Five: “Diogenes’ Utopia.” This is the achievement you get for going through all of Belobog’s trash cans, and yep, the relevancy to Sampo seems pretty obvious here. Not only is it in the Moment of Joy (Elation-aligned) category, but it directly connects to the idea of Belobog and Sampo himself being associated with trash and trashcans — in fact, one could even say Sampo views himself as the “trash” in the greater “trashcan” of Belobog! Because of this link, it seems to imply some kind of importance to getting to know Sampo, to looking beyond his exterior or the parts others see as “valueless” and finding the worth inside of him. To be loved is to be known, and all that. 

— Additionally, the mention of yet another Greek figure — Diogenes — is important as well. Not only was Diogenes known for founding cynicism (a lifestyle emphasizing self-sufficiency and, perhaps most notably, intentional rejection of luxury), he also rejected “manners” as a whole, often impressing the idea that “truth” and honesty was a virtue. 

— As for Sampo, I find this link quite interesting. It really makes me think about how, despite Sampo’s penchant for being a businessman, he willingly chooses to stay in Belobog, a place far-removed from the luxuries of the wider universe. Not just that, but although he often obscures or leaves out important details of the truth, he never seems to outright lie. With how Tatalov shook out on Penacony, “truth” and the revealing of it seems important to him as well. (He also mentions that he has nothing to hide later in this same event.)

— It also many be referring to Belobog as a “utopia” for someone like Diogenes, since so much of the planet has returned to the “simplicity of nature” through being cut off from the wider universe.

— Overall, there’s quite a bit of references to Greek figures, and well as implications of both conceptual and material themes. All together, it seems to paint a picture of Sampo as someone who, on a personal level (and despite the way he comes across on the outside), prioritizes truth, ambition, and finding value in unlikely places. It also implies that, on an identity level, he may be someone who isn’t entirely human — a creation, perhaps even technological or otherwise — who has been tossed aside from one place only to be found valuable in another, and additionally who may have been “set loose” to explore the limits of his existence.

— These could have slight alterations, of course, like Sampo not being “set loose” by any one party but rather trying to find his limitations on his own, or being found “valuable” in Belobog’s Undercity as opposed to the Elation itself, but I think the core ideas still stand.

— “High Voltage Stolen From Heavens” is very interesting to me because of one word: stolen. (Well, it also occurs to me that “high voltage” implies the fluid-turned-flame eventually snapped into existence, and was likely taken from that “electrical” form, and that “heavens” implies either space itself or another Aeon, but I digress.) “Stolen” sticks out to me so much because the mythological Sampo has quite a bit of conflict surrounding it, including being “stolen” (several times, if I remember correctly). 

— This fits neatly into a mythological interpretation of Sampo’s character, implying that from whatever form (material or otherwise) he originated in, he was then stolen by another party in-universe. My tendency is to say Aha was the one doing the stealing, as Sampo is currently affiliated with the Elation and it just seems like something Aha would do. The main question now is: From who? Again, Sampo’s identity itself is the main question. (Looking real convenient for that “secret” only Aha knows.) Aha’s motivations seem to have been either experimental, joke, or purely interest-based in nature, so we at least have some leads there. Additionally, it seems that Sampo may have been “shoved,” for lack of a better word, into a smaller or more compact form when he was stolen, so that’s another idea. However, i’m still not sure from who.

— Aha is doing the stealing, Sampo is the thing being stolen, so who else is part of the equation? I’m tempted to say it’s another Aeon, or at least an important Path faction, but for the life of me that’s something I just can’t figure out. Again, this is likely intentional if Aha is trying to keep Sampo’s identity a “secret,” but it still frustrates me to no end. Who is it Mx. Aha?? I need to know!!

— (“Stolen” could also refer to “Those Remembered (I)” from Mundanite Assembly, as Xiaoya and her teacher taking Sampo out of the darkness — likely his home or place he lived — and into the light, or outer world, could be a case of “stealing”.)

— “On stormy days, the unyielding kite will face the wrath of the gods head-on” once again feels like Sampo is referring to himself, this time as the “unyielding kite”. I wonder if “wrath of the gods” is meant to simulate some kind of battle fought over him (which would line up with some mythology-related stuff) or if it’s simply meant to talk about how Sampo might stand up to an Aeon (or multiple Aeons) in the future — hell, maybe he already did! It’s possible that Aha or someone else fucked around too much and found out.

— “(Do not attempt!)” also feels like a warning.

— “Nameless” saying “best luck to kites everywhere” is surprisingly wholesome as well, like we’re giving him well-wishes for his journey. Additionally, “kites everywhere” implies multiplicity, which I of course associate with Aha’s collection and/or stuffed toys because of their many individuals.

— (There’s a chance that, because of this, we may be dealing with a collection item/Doll!Sampo that, out of so many others, was the one to finally stand up and say “Hey! You treat us badly! Fuck you!”)

— As far as I’m aware, this seems like a pretty factual “true story” Sampo’s talking about — coming across a Knight of Beauty who tells a story that outlines and references Benjamin Franklin’s kite experiment, then being a bit taken aback by the Knight’s sheer devotion. 

— While this seems to be a true story in-universe, it also seems to mirror the idea that Sampo may have been “bottled” himself, potentially stolen from a different, more fluid and combustible form and forced into a smaller one through some kind of experiment or, as mentioned earlier, “trap.” If Aha was indeed the one doing the stealing, this lends a more sinister motive to the whole thing. While it’s true Sampo may have found new value with the Elation, he may have only found that through a series of traumatic events, like being stolen, trapped, or otherwise “sealed” (like the evil god in the Shining Trapezohedron Die from Ship of Fools — haha, see how I made that connection! >:3) for the purpose of a “joke” or other experiment. 

— (This experimentation could also be connected to Mundanite Assembly’s “Resleeved,” especially with its use of transplantation and Organic Heart specifically.)

— In this case, Sampo very much comes across as a force of nature — no wonder Aha wants to be hush-hush about his identity! If anyone were to find out, or heaven forbid, break that “seal” (likely Sampo’s human form itself) all hell could break loose. 

— I also just find it nice to see Sampo’s interaction with and outlook on someone outside of Belobog or the Masked Fools! It seems he has some complicated feelings when it comes to the Knights of Beauty — on one hand, he seems taken aback by their pure devotion and unabashed, streamlined fervor, but on the other hand there’s this sort of amused admiration that comes from seeing their antics. If I had to sum Sampo’s conversation up in this regard, it’d most likely be the phrase “backhanded compliment.”

.✦ ── ✦.

Day 4

.✦ ── ✦.

— This is arguably the biggest day in terms of Doll!Sampo theories, and for good reason. Sampo himself says “we’re cooking up some toys today,” and the interesting part is that it’s plural — not just one, but multiple, much like Aha’s stuffed toys.

— The name of the Curio is “The Ice That Never Laughs,” which sticks out to me for two reasons: one, the presence of “ice,” a distinct element you wouldn’t consider to be such a large part of a toy, and two, the phrase “never laughs,” a condition of existence that seems to be the complete opposite of the Elation’s — and Aha’s — goal of laughter.

— “This is a block of ice that never laughs.” It’s an interesting line, from the ice itself seeming to straddle a line between non-sentient and sentient (and in a way being personified despite giving no indication of, well, personhood) to the absolutism of “never.” Not only does it “not” laugh, but it “never” laughs. I’m tempted to say this ice not only represents the stuffed toys in general, but is supposed to clue us in to a very specific toy — perhaps one as contradictory as Sampo — that goes against the Elation’s idea of “laughter.”

— This sentiment is made all the more ominous by the interjection: “(Incorrect! Squeezing it from different angles will make it produce different sounds of laughter!)”. This implies that the toy does not want to laugh, but is rather made to through some cruel idea of a joke. It’s very similar to the Aha Stuffed Toy occurrence, where the toys have to be physically beaten and even broken to grant rewards.

— The main catch is: Who is Sampo in all of this? (Another identity question, who could’ve seen it coming?) If we’re looking at these Curios as intentionally-placed-and-named objects meant to give us insight into who Sampo is, what he believes, and what his role is in the wider universe, then I would say this ice is meant to represent him — or at least a time he was considered a toy like this. However, the comment section where someone compliments the “mental state of this toy designer” is answered directly by Sampo, who responds to it by saying “People here all say Mr. Cold Feet is disturbed!”.

— I feel like this implies Sampo to be not a toy, but rather the creator or designer themself. This, of course, would lead to Aha-centric theories, since Aha is the one who made the Aha Stuffed Toys. If Sampo used to be or is a part of Aha (if not the full Aeon Themself), then it makes sense that he would be the one answering questions about the toy designer. When he mentions being “disturbed,” it also makes me aware that he’s aware of the implications of such toys, yet decided to design them anyways. It fits with the way I’ve described Aha as a toy creator before, if not eerily so.

— There’s also the chance that Sampo, once again, fits in some kind of Emanator purgatory — perhaps he, as a being whose function is concerned with transmutation and even creation to an extent, was used by Aha to make the toys, and as such had some kind of say in the process. This could account for his disturbed designer mentality while also making it clear he’s not an Aeon himself.

— Unfortunately, this doesn’t fully account for a chronological understanding of Sampo’s identity; if he is trying to communicate something about his identity or situation to us through this event, I find it more likely that the inclusion of the ice would be a cry for help than any kind of “hey, I created these fucked up things this one time.” … And we’re back at square one!

— There are a few alternate theories, like if Sampo was captured or “stolen” to then be turned into a toy, or even if he designed the toys themselves only to be betrayed by Aha forcing him to be just the same as them — a prison of his own making, if you will — but it’s all speculation.

— I really want to believe he’s in this predator-prey, creator-created grey area so we can get the best of both worlds, but there’s just not enough concrete evidence to say for sure.

— (The repeated phrase “Collectible and Value-Preserving” also means more here, since the toys themselves would be made to be collectible, as seen in several Simulated Universe occurrences like The *Perfect* Grand Challenge and Ship of Fools!)

— Some of this dialogue also supports the idea that Sampo is more of a creator than a toy himself. “They’re a surefire hit” is very marketing-coded, meaning Sampo’s role here would be more to market and sell these toys than anything else. However, as we’ve mentioned before, it could also be his way of talking around the subject, using other items to, essentially, refer to himself.

— Additionally, he mentions gaining “inspiration,” which leads back to him being a designer, even just on a surface level.

— The inspiration itself, though, is interesting. A “toy bird” with its “expression stuck in horror, emitting a shrill screech whenever you squeeze on it.” If this isn’t the bird from Everlasting Hatred, I don’t know what is. The art for Everlasting Hatred, a Clown’s Item retrieved by Sampo in the Penacony Trailblaze quest, has a direct link to Sampo’s character theme of “hate,” and features a dead bird speared through the chest with an amalgamation of hardened, blackened thorns in the shape of a heart.

— I always assumed this bird was meant to symbolize Sampo, since it’s his “Clown’s Item” (and falls neatly in sequence with the other two), but the way he says “I really loved it” here makes me confused. It seems to imply this bird isn’t him, but is rather someone or something he used to know, some outside object he felt affection for. But if that’s the case, then why is he so specific about it? Why does it still feel like it has the quality of him trying to tell us something?

— If not for that last part, I would want to say Sampo is referring to himself again, referencing a period of time (likely as a toy or another part of Aha’s “collection”) where he was trapped in a horrible situation, likely being used by Aha for something so intensely that his demeanor and sense of self was completely warped.

— (This could also apply to the “Resleeved” experiments in Mundanite Assembly.)

— But, of course, that last line still implies that it was something else?

— Actually, now that I think about it, it’s possible that Sampo finds comfort in this “toy bird” because he relates to it, or because he’s been in a similar situation. I suppose that could explain not only why it is a physical Clown’s Item for him to retrieve, but also why he seems to love a separate object while also trying to convey something about himself. Perhaps him and the bird share similar feelings of distress, pain, and hopelessness, causing him to feel a kinship with it much like he does Belobog. After all, only the disturbed find comfort in the disturbing — and he said it himself, he is disturbed. Perhaps instead of coming up with random ideas, he’s trying to process or vent some part of his own life through these Curios.

— The next paragraph definitely reads like a directly-Sampo conversation, though — “an ice cube can only keep laughing to prevent itself from melting into a puddle of waste water in such a capricious age, haha.” Again, like the bird, this is so specific that I’m not sure who Sampo would be talking about other than himself. The inclusion of “waste water” and “haha” specifically tie things together for him, as “waste” is similar to the trash he is associated with, and “haha” is literally him laughing right after he describes how the ice has to keep laughing to survive. It’s like saying “I have this friend who has to say yippee otherwise they get struck down by a bolt of lightning” and then immediately saying “Yippee!” in a panicked voice while looking nervously at the sky. Despite the way he throws his perspective away from the toy cube at times, I’m still inclined to say it represents him.

— If we go with this interpretation, here’s what I think the ice cube is trying to say: Sampo is or has previously been in a situation where he was considered to be a toy (or at least treated in a similar way), complete with the pain, hopelessness, and dehumanization such a position would impose upon him. As such, his presentation of himself warped, much like the “shrieking” bird and the ice that is “forced” to laugh. Then, continuing forward, he must laugh or be a part of the Elation in order to survive.

— Other ideas may include: Sampo being a “middleman” for these toys, designing them and becoming attached to them in some sort of “disturbed” way. Sampo may also feel a sort of kinship with these toys despite not being one, perhaps because Aha “uses” him for his function in a similar way. (There’s a chance Aha “using” Sampo so much may lead to him breaking, or even being “broken” before, just to tie in to some occurrences and mythology!)

— (Mundanite Assembly also shows “Sampo” breaking and dying in numerous different ways, especially if all the stories are meant to be a chronological look at rebirth / reincarnation.)

— Then, at the very end, Sampo mentions how the toys are getting popular. He even justifies it a little, saying “… the world’s full of turmoil that makes it hard to laugh.” This could be indicative of a general sentiment — “outside looking in” — where he sees the toys as an understandable need in the world, but I have more of a feeling it says something about Sampo himself. To me, it sounds a lot like he’s trying to justify his own pain or suffering, to find some sort of silver lining so that he can understand why this is happening. He makes it sound casual — just enough to throw us off in wondering if he’s really talking about himself or not — but it’s clear he wouldn’t say something like this for no reason.

— (There’s also the chance Sampo is Aha, or at least a manifestation of Them, and is trying to convey something similar to the Primum Mobile: a set of rules where he must laugh, because the Elation may cease to exist if he doesn’t.)

— Overall, I’m more inclined to say Sampo wasn’t originally created as a toy, but rather stolen by Aha and forced to become one (or at least be used as one). And honestly? That’s more horrifying than the original theory!

.✦ ── ✦.

Day 5

.✦ ── ✦.

— “Salutations”… He’s so cute……

— “Full-Auto AetherTurbo Bookmark.” The main thing that sticks out to me here is “Full-Auto,” since it goes back to the idea of something automated, like a toy. I’m not quite sure what “bookmark” is supposed to mean, though? “AetherTurbo” could imply higher existence, such as being or becoming an Emanator, since “aether” is more outside the bounds of traditional elements and “turbo” implies “more” power or speed. A bookmark, however?

— The closest answer I can come to is that since Sampo has been talking about stories quite a bit in this event, it’s something to do with that. Perhaps he was created or has the ability to inhabit a specific “story” or “moment” in time, occupying the niche of a “bookmark” in a greater story. Beyond that, I’m not sure, at least through name alone.

— I’m guessing this Curio though, in a general sense, may be meant to represent the “hot-blooded past” he mentions later, since the art is of a feather on fire (and, well, fire is hot!). It’s possible that this, potentially being his time as an Emanator, could symbolize a jump in power as well as whatever “niche” he occupied during that time — maybe it had something to do with stories or something similar.

— The imagery of a phoenix is not lost on me, either, as that carries a very specific theme of being “reborn” that may also point towards his departure from “toy” or otherwise “powerless” status to something more self-sustaining. Becoming a new self, and all that.

— “Apply the principles of etheric wave dynamics to help you finish books you don’t have time to read!” If anything, I feel like this may support the relation between Sampo and Aha even more. To me, “etheric wave dynamics” fall in line with Sampo’s… everything, so far, from his original fluid state to even his traits as a playable character. Then, “to help you finish books you don’t have time to read” speaks very much to a condition or use, or a very specific purpose. We are moving away from the plain, marketable, cookie-cutter idea of a toy that is forced to laugh, and towards a higher, more specific form of existence. I interpret this niche to be something like a right-hand man, or at least an assistant — Sampo, in this case, would be the one finishing those unread books, while whoever his creator is is sending him out to do it.

Note: I have just finished reading through Mundanite Assembly, and will be attempting to make tentative connections / interpretations more often from here on out. (I will be assuming the “you” in these stories is Sampo, and addressing him accordingly.) In terms of this new information, the “bookmark” could also represent Sampo attempting to understand his past lives or experiments, which could be the “books” he doesn’t have time to read. 

— “(Just like the famous storyteller!)” may also apply to Aha, since the Elation and Masked Fools seem to be focused on the impact of stories and storytelling — just take the Ship of Fools occurrence, where the entire Aha-coded event is basically a train of stories framed as “jokes”. 

— Sampo also specifies that the product makes you feel like you’ve read a certain book, not the act of actually learning and understanding.

— This may be a shorthand way for him to try and experience his past lives, or it could be a way of conveying how Aha sends Their Emanators or dolls out to accomplish tasks They don’t want to / don’t feel like doing Themselves (a la “venting extreme emotions”). 

— (The phoenix may also be indicative of Sampo’s many “lives,” especially the “Resleeved” story in Mundane Assembly where he is taken through many experimental lives in short succession.)

— Similar to what he says in his “first meeting” line about being a “businessman, chaperone, and problem-solving conversationalist” rolled into one; the idea of the stall selling multiple (sometimes unexpected or uncommon) Curios and the idea of he himself taking on multiple professions can also lead to the idea that he, from an identity standpoint, occupies multiple functions or niches. In this way, the stall selling stationery could also be a means to convey how Sampo operates in “multiplicity” as well.

— This is a good piece of interpretation for theory combination, as themes of multiplicity are very much present throughout his character. In this way, Mundanite Assembly could function as a way to convey points of his life associated with the Erudition — he is a machine, a source of knowledge, an organic-inorganic experiment of wonder — while things like his Eidolons could convey his time with the Elation as a Doll, Emanator, or otherwise. Basically, these things may not be in conflict with one another narratively; it is entirely possible Sampo is all of this at once. 

— As for his pop-up event? I’m still tempted to say it is somewhat chronological, if only because it follows a line from non-sentient to advanced consciousness. However, the meanings of each timeline could be twofold: both his backstory with the Erudition and his place within the Elation currently.

— “If people get too obsessed with the outcome, they’ll be driven mad.” This seems to line up with “Resleeved” and several other points of Mundanite Assembly, as the scholar performing experiments on him was clearly unhinged. 

— However, Sampo also treats the bookmark as a dangerous object with an amount of “influence” and danger. It’s possible he is referring to himself as something that can easily drive knowledge-seekers into madness, or even the general idea of “knowledge” being enough to move someone to insanity.

— “To become more open-minded, one must first learn to be self-deprecating.” This feels like a reference to “Windup World (III)” where the Tavern expresses clearly that it is “open-minded” before… well… playing quite a horrible “joke” on Sampo. 

— The next part is one I’m torn in two directions on. The “mental torment without hope of escape” he mentions and the mustering “courage” to complain could be a reference to the clear mental torment of “Resleeved (II)”s experiments, and complaining about dinner could also link to “Printed Truths (II)” where he eats the Curio apple. However, this seems a bit… off from those stories. The experiments eventually break him instead of offering him any genuine escape, and the “apple” he eats doesn’t lead to any escape either. In both cases, he meets horrible ends; the only way it could be an “escape” is if he was aware he would die and be reborn free of his situation, but… he never seems to self-aware of that in these stories, at least not explicitly.

— Which leads me to the other option: this line of thinking may be him attempting to apply vague “knowledge” of past experiences to a current situation he faces. If he finds himself in an unsavory situation within the Elation, especially one focused around the “interest” or “amusement” of another party, then perhaps this line of thinking is prudent; after all, the act of complaining can often spoil the mood, and being a “let-down” may be a good way of diverting unwanted attention or amusement. A toy is meant to be fun, after all, and what use is it if it isn’t?

— He also specifies that he’s not a “comedic actor,” and when following that up with talking about those who “disregard the comedy of their routines” in favor of “doing their utmost to let others hear their own laughter,” it seems like a pretty big reference to “Windup World (III)” where the Masked Fool uses him in an “opening act” by making him, essentially, kill himself in front of a live audience. Obviously, this would be extremely traumatic for Sampo, while the “comedian” fits the description of someone who doesn’t care about the pain or distress of others as long as it makes them laugh. 

— Sampo’s resulting worry — “Heavens, that’s so scary. Please don’t become someone like that.” — makes sense as well, as that traumatic event would cause him to be pretty shaken up when discussing the topic. The idea of us, a “friend,” becoming associated with the fear and adrenaline of that night is simply too much for him to consider.

— It’s also possible that Aha could also be referenced here, since the point of the Laughter is to… well, laugh. Despite Aha being a conceptual being, Sampo may view some of Their jokes as being cruel or unfair, especially if we’re taking a Doll!Sampo leaning. Aha may view it as funny, as a way to prioritize Their Laughter that rings throughout the universe, but from Sampo’s perspective it wouldn’t be comedic at all, just cruel.

— Overall, I do feel like this day heavily references not just “Windup World (III),” but phoenix-like rebirth and hints towards a current “trapped” situation. 

— From an Emanator or Elation standpoint, rebirth may also be symbolic of a transformation we simply don’t see in Mundanite Assembly, something occupying the gap between that night at the tavern and the Sampo we see today.

.✦ ── ✦.

Day 6

.✦ ── ✦.

— “Synesthesia Omnihelper” could refer to his position within the Elation, either as an Emanator or a Masked Fool. The “omnihelper” in this catches my eye, as it implies a job as both an assistant and someone of a flexible position. “Synesthesia” could apply to Sampo’s ability to travel many places and talk to many people, as well as be a link to several points in Mundanite Assembly where synthetic Curios and the general themes of technological / space-time knowledge are present.

— “Resolve workplace troubles” sounds like it might have a link to the times where Sampo was working with other scholars or researchers in an attempt to, generally, gain different types of knowledge. The “dynamically provided solutions” also sound like part of his position in “Dousing Flames (II)” and “Printed Truths (III)”; essentially, when he was in the vicinity of others he could express his opinions to. Qingque’s comment of “It keeps praising me and asking me to work harder” also lines up with “Dousing Flames (II)” where the only real dialogue options you can pick are expressing optimism or pessimism (not exactly any useful solutions). 

— Another interpretation is that this could be his current situation: perhaps he functions as a sort of “helper” within the Masked Fools or even to Aha Themself, doing the dirty work or solving certain issues that come with being as meticulous yet chaotic as the Elation.

— It’s possible that it doesn’t even have anything to do with the Elation at all, but rather Sampo’s general attempts to help Belobog and the Trailblazer, “guiding” us in a way using his wealth of experience and knowledge. 

— However, I am fairly sure this state of being an “omnihelper” may be the job he’s expressed burnout with before; constantly being an assistant to someone else in their (or Their) pursuit of certain goals must become tiring after a time, and maybe he finally just wants to prioritize himself for once. 

— Also, “(This one’s for real!)” is backed up by a commenter saying it’s a “legitimate product,” which could add to the idea that Sampo really is trying to help, or at least tell us the truth.

— I do think there are certain things that are still difficult or even functionally impossible for him to say, but lord knows he’s trying his best!

— Lil easter egg! It is very cute!

— I like how much he likes us — for the first time, we really get an explicit confirmation he cares about us. Despite the casualness of his facade, there’s a surprising amount of love in there. 

— We also feel like we “need to accept these dividends first,” which is yet another tie to his mythological function. Whatever his past lives may have been, whatever differences his backstory may hold, the Sampo we know is the Sampo he is now. He’s still a businessman at heart, and he still wants to help us. And, maybe, for now at least, that’s all that really matters. :)

— Again, it feels like he’s referring to himself here, like he’s surprised at just how many people need his help. Especially when thinking in terms of Belobog and the Trailblazer, there sure seems to be a lot of people who could use the help of someone like him. He also seems to have quite a bit of empathy, asking “How much hardship must people be suffering from…” in a way that seems like he’s… sad? Wistful? Either way, it feels like he understands the need for the “omnihelper” as well as what it symbolizes.

— He comes back to the World’s End Tavern as well, this time detailing how the Tavern only closes its doors to one type of person: someone who is so robot-like that they do the same mundane things over and over.

— At first, I was tempted to say this may be a reference to mass-produced stuffed toys that only exist to be beaten and play the same jingle over and over, but even the stuffed toys have an element of chaos in whether they grant you rewards or not, not even taking into account the spontaneous combustions that can happen. (Plus, “robotic” doesn’t exactly seem like something Aha would be too fond of.) 

— Although Sampo quantifies this as a fable, I also feel like he mentions it for a reason — there must be some truth to it, otherwise why would he bring it up? My best guess is, if not the toys, it may be Sampo’s way of speculating over his own existence. If Mundanite Assembly is to be interpreted as Sampo-related, he would have quite literally been a robotic device at some point. Whether he knows the full extent of these past lives or not, he may be wryly (even ironically) noting how the Masked Fools shun the exact type of person he used to be. 

— The “Who wouldn’t have an ounce of hectic excitement in their lives? I’d love to meet such a person, haha.” line could be a source of dramatic irony within the story, as we the viewer may be more aware of how his past fits with this than he does himself. It could be him reminiscing on how far he’s come and how much his view of the world has changed, or it could simply be a way for Star Rail to convey a more simple idea: that he simply likes having fun.

— I do feel like it could point towards that “gap” in time we don’t know much about. It’s possible that, for whatever reason, there was a time he was shunned from the Tavern for acting this way, and that’s how he knows so much about it. This could have been incited by them finding out about his past identities, him changing when he gained power or even became an Emanator, or whatever clownfuckery Aha might have going on with him. It could even be indicative of burnout or “Cloud of Doubt.” 

— As he said before, if he had been in some sort of unending, mental torment within the Masked Fools (perhaps being used as a plaything or puppet by Aha Themself), then perhaps he had to act like this, had to act like a simple robot unable to do anything but complain over and over and over again until They set him free. He might not even be free, but simply acting in a small reprieve of time granted by trying to deflect the gaze of something or someone determined to find him “interesting.” After all, there’s a chance the people attending that comedy show in “Windup World (III)” liked his opening act a little too much.

— In his last little bit of dialogue, he talks about farces. I’m not sure if this is meant to be about the Masked Fools or Aha directly, as I feel like it could be both. On one hand, his description of a farce’s departure from a regular comedy lines up with he chaos of the Fools, especially the part about the script having no rhythm and the actors stepping on each other’s toes. It definitely seems like each Fool does think they are the center of the world. 

— However, the chaos of Aha’s splash art and their “collection” of masks / items could mean this is about Them too — a cynical take from Sampo that turns the concept of “comedic Elation” on its head. “Twisting around together” really reminds me of Aha’s splash art with just how many items are present. Aha as an entity seems to be a very complicated, twisting thing, so even if They aren’t referred to directly in these lines, They may at least be implicated. After all, action and inaction may be the same in Sampo’s eyes. If Aha doesn’t intercede in the Fools’ affairs — simply allowing them to carry on with their farce because it’s amusing to watch — then that may be just as bad as being part of the farce itself. The question becomes: What’s worse — an Aeon making a cruel joke Themself, or an Aeon simply watching in amusement as that cruel joke plays out?

— Either way, we know Sampo has personal experience with this, since he says it sounds “eerily similar to real life” and expresses his explicit distaste. Whether it was the Masked Fools, Aha, or a specific Fool (like the one in “Windup World (III)”), it’s likely Sampo has been deeply annoyed or even hurt by those that carry out the “farce.”

.✦ ── ✦.

Day 7

.✦ ── ✦.

— “Unlocking the secrets of the universe” seems like something pretty big — potentially a goal Sampo is currently trying to reach in the present. (“Just kidding” is, of course, present, but it feels like something tacked on as a half-hearted assurance, perhaps trying to circumvent any speech limitations.)

— “The Manifest Life of Eternally Homing.” To be honest, I didn’t fully understand this one until I read through Mundanite Assembly. I could potentially see it as a wandering Doll!Sampo who surpassed the limitations of his function and is attempting to find who he wants to be, or a Curio Hacker-related want to find answers for a difficult situation. Now, though, especially with the mention of gaining “detailed insights into your past and present lives,” I believe it is referencing the fact Sampo may have lived numerous lives before this one.

— Mundanite Assembly’s stories are a bit unclear to me on if Sampo has ever been aware of his eternally looping forms of existence, but either way I can understand if he wants more information on who he is, who he has been, and honestly, just what the hell is going on. He may even be as confused as we are, attempting to understand anything about his own existence and why he is the way that he is. There’s a chance he may even be breaking the fourth wall in an attempt to subvert the bounds of the game and find information like that hidden in the Unknowable Domain.

— This makes me think that he’s found some sort of higher way, bargain, or deal to use these “big data algorithms” to his advantage; he may be a wonder of nature and engineering, but there are certain things only Emanators or Aeons may be able to help him understand. I’m inclined to say Aha or Nous is involved here, heavy on the Aha. Nous may be willing to help based on how linked Sampo is to all sorts of information (and the fact he is on one big long quest for knowledge), but the mention of “Take It Easy, Icarus” from earlier makes me think Aha is amused at seeing just how far Sampo will be able to go in his search.

— “Guaranteed answers” here makes me go right back to Nous, though, since knowledge is definitely Their domain. Plus, They might help Sampo just because of how significant his existence is in the first place. Hell, maybe both Aha and Nous are in on it at the same time. I can see both sides: Aha interested in seeing how Sampo’s honestly crazy bonkers story continues (if Mundanite Assembly is anything to go by), or Nous directly inspiring him on his quest to find more knowledge about the universe and the nature of his miraculous existence. (IX might even be here, too, due to Sampo’s playable Path.)

— “You will make the same choice as you do now” is an interesting thing for March to mention in her comment; assuming this Curio works, it may say something about her future story or identity. Perhaps there have been other times in her past where she has made similar choices, and no amount of amnesia can change who she is at her core, nor what decisions she will continue to make. (Sampo even confirms a bit of this when he says “your spirit will always stay the same”.)

— It could also point to a loop in Sampo’s existence — most of his lives to tend to meet similar, violent ends (being “broken,” burned alive, shot through the head and the chest, etc.) — which may mean he makes some kind of “butterfly effect” choice over and over and over again to warrant these gruesome demises. (Hey, throwback to the mundane, repeating “robot” from Day 6!) Similarly to March, it’s possible that even if he makes different “choices” in each of his lives, his spirit — the nature of the “Sampo,” the nature of breaking — will always stay the same. It’s an enormous burden to try and escape, that’s for sure.

— (Also, the art of the Curio shows code in the background, perhaps alluding to his self-awareness and awareness of the game itself, as well as his attempts to break free of what is confining him. Additionally, the Curio itself is surrounded by a sort of barrier or seal, which supports the idea he is bound by his current situation — maybe even unable to speak about certain things.)

— Either way, this man has a lot of conditions on his existence, and I wish him all the luck in finding out whatever is going on.

— Even with all this talk of Mundanite Assembly, Sampo still circles back around to the express idea of selling, monetizing, and money-making at the end. While some of the stories in Mundanite Assembly do emphasize research funds and money, I really think it has more to do with who Sampo is now than who he used to be. Perhaps this is part of a “deal” he made, or perhaps this is a core part of his existence finally coming to the forefront. 

— In a way, maybe the Elation is helping him reconcile positive emotions with business. “Fun and money-making,” he says, perhaps for the first time. For the first time, he might be able to see himself as more than just a tool, more than just an experiment, more than just a puppet on a string. He has a function, of course, but he’s realized he can fulfill it in a way that’s fun for him. A way that acknowledges his personhood and his value. And honestly, I’m happy for him! So much of his life (even lives) has sucked so incredibly much at so many different points that I just want him to be happy for once, goddamnit!

— “I have nothing to hide anyway” feels true, in a sense. I really do think, given the way he details having drinks with friends at the tavern and exchanging stories, he is telling us as much as he’s possibly able to. He’s honest about his interest in “funny tales” and self-creating stories, and even says the meme was “gifted by a friend” of his. However, there are obvious gaps, clear instances of vague wording where there should be detail. For example, who are the friends he had drinks with? Who was the friend who gifted him the meme? Any amount of detail would suffice. It’s strange that he specifies run-ins with Knights of Beauty and Masked Fools during this event, but can’t provide any tiny hint as to who these friends are now.

— It goes back to my theory that he is bound by certain limitations, that he can only say or do certain things — when it seems he is approaching too close to a topic, he becomes this vague, cryptic mess. I feel like this “friend” might be whoever he’s made a deal with, or whoever is responsible for his limitations. Perhaps that’s why he can’t specify who they are — because he literally can’t. Of course I want to believe this is Aha, but it could also be literally anyone else of higher power. 

— Sampo also mentions he’s had adventurous run-ins, much like the Nameless. It makes sense, then, why he would feel a sort of kinship with us; especially if his “past lives” are as varied as those mentioned in Mundanite Assembly, he may feel a sort of connection with how often the Nameless change stories and locations. Constantly traveling, constantly fighting, constantly being thrust into new and unexplored situations — that seems very much like something that would be related to Sampo.

— (Also, “hot-blooded” past is specific and interesting wording. I remember his blood literally boiling in “Resleeved (III)” so it could be a more literal take on events, or it could be indicative of a time, likely with the Masked Fools, where he was, to put it simply, probably batshit crazy. At the very least, he might’ve been impulsive, arrogant, or combative, really anything that would match with the connotations of “hot-blooded”. It could also reference events like his revenge in “Windup World (I)”.)

— “It’s pointless to talk about my past adventures” also feels like he’s trying to avoid a topic where he may have limitations on what he can say. “Pointless” may be that he doesn’t think we need to know, or it may be that it simply wouldn’t be worth the effort of fighting against some limitation he can’t surpass in the first place.

— The, he leaves to “go have a drink,” which, besides having links to the Elation’s goblet-filled imagery, establishes that Sampo is a man who likes to have a drink. And just what did Boothill find that Elation Emanator doing? Exactly.

— I also love the idea of a full circle here, as “Printed Truths (II)” deals explicitly with the lack of the ability to synthesize Curios, and here we are… synthesizing Curios. You go get ‘em, Sampo!

— And, obviously, we have the first explicit depiction of Sampo’s mythology in canon: dialogue lines taken straight from the Kalevala. I’m not too clear on how this fits into specific theories, only that it directly plays into his theme of “producing wealth,” as well as being trapped in a situation where he must carry out his function. The “function” itself could be Elation-related, laughter-related (as mentioned on Day Four), money/wealth-related (as supported by Aha Stuffed Toy and his mythology itself), or even all three! 

— One thing’s for sure, he is one enigma of a man. He’s at least aware enough of the poem to sing it, although it’s unclear if it exists in-universe or if this is yet another crazy fourth wall-break.

— Anyways, I’ve yapped long enough, it’s time for me to summarize my thoughts!

— Here it is: the event summarized in all its glory. Let’s get into the breakdown!

— General: Clearly, Sampo is trying to tell us something with all of this. It’s just too… detailed, chronological, as if taken from his own experiences. I feel like there are certain things he can’t or won’t say, and as such has to rely on this “pop-up shop” as a means of talking his way around the subject, hoping we’ll pick up what he’s trying to put down. At the very least, he just wants to have a little fun. At face value, we’re simply synthesizing random Curios. But nothing’s ever so simple with Sampo, so there’s something here. The only issue is getting down to what it is; and, well, if you’ve read this far, you’ve probably realized there’s a lot of options. The event is specific yet vague, general yet complicated, shallow yet incredibly deep. And honestly? I still don’t know what it all means. I can only do my best to speculate. So speculate I shall!

— Mundanite Assembly: Day One and Two would be his original form, floating in the ether and untouched by man (likely mechanical in nature); Day Three would be this original form being harnessed by the woman in “Those Remembered (I)”, being “stolen” from wherever he was waiting; Day Four and Five, generally, may deal with events surrounding the experimentation in “Resleeved” and subsequent research in “Dousing Flames” (I am more inclined to put “Dousing Flames” with Day Four due to the running theme of fire, although the phoenix imagery may fit with experimentation more); Day Six would be “Printed Truths” and the Path research that went on there; Day Seven would be the present, with Sampo attempting to understand his “past lives,” either through revealing what they were in the first place, or gaining some sort of key insight based on memories he already has. He is likely trying to convey his existence in a way that won’t overwhelm us, and also in a way that works with whatever “limitations” he has. His talk of the Fools would place “Windup World (III)” as the beginning of the time gap, where we just have his word to go off of. In this time, he likely experienced that cruel puppet joke, joined the Fools, and potentially gained power or some sort of “deal” to accomplish his goals going forward.

— Doll!Sampo: Simply put, chronologically, an element being drawn into form — created — by the act of “stealing” something from the heavens, then turned into an Aha Stuffed Toy that must laugh to survive (even through external force). This would be Days One through Three. Day Four would be a “phoenix-like” rebirth into an Emanator or Fool of higher status, which Day Five would then turn into a specific niche for him to occupy in Aha’s “collection” — that of a helper or assistant. Day Six is once again indicative of the present, with him trying to subvert the conditions of his own existence as a creation of Elation. It’s also possible that Mundanite Assembly happened long ago and, after being messed with by the Fools, Sampo was “stolen” and reforged into a toy by Aha or even the Fools themselves. (Basically, Mundanite Assembly and Doll!Sampo don’t have to conflict with one another; they can still fit chronologically. It’s possible the Sampo we know now has all the past backstory Mundanite Assembly has to offer, but the event simply starts at the act of Aha plucking him out and “stealing” him.)

— Aha!Sampo: Days One and Two would indicate a “conceptual” or Aeonic existence, while Day Three and Four would be Aha potentially finding a way to have a mortal form or siphon some part of Themself into a “vessel.” Day Five would be the “rebirth” of either a new Aha taking the old one’s place, or Aha’s consciousness being reborn into this new form. Day Five would be this new persona — that of a helper — which would then lead to Day Six, where They attempt to find Their true purpose beyond the restrictions of the Primum Mobile (or even circumvent those restrictions in the first place).

— Emanator!Sampo: No matter what theory we’re dealing with, I’m inclined to say Day Four or Day Six are the best indicators of a shift to Emanatorhood. Day Four has its imagery of phoenix rebirth, which could symbolize a shift in power or a rebirth into a higher form of existence, while Day Six could be his present status breaking through the fourth wall and attempting to accomplish whatever it is his current goal is. This can work with Mundanite Assembly and Doll Theory, as in those I’ve already mentioned how I feel Emanator status could work.

— Non-Chronological: This could, generally, not even be about a specific order of events in Sampo’s life, but rather different parts of his worldview, identity, or interests. It’s possible that all of these conditions exist at the same time — he may be conceptual, and organic, and a toy, and a jumble of code, and a phoenix in the process of rebirth. This would allow for a more experimental look at things, with all structure set aside to look at the core of who he is. He’s not just something stolen, but a helper, too. He’s not just a lost soul looking to circumvent the lines of code that bind him, he’s a man in a constant state of rebirth, inventing and re-inventing himself until he’s satisfied. He’s burning his wings while being trapped in the confines of ice, laughing because he has to and sparking because he doesn’t. He’s everything, all at once.

— Non-Identity: If not Sampo’s identity, these Curios could be symbolic of people he knows, or simply just Curios he finds interesting. My most viable thought here is that each Curio symbolizes a part of Aha’s “collection” — or Their Emanators who all have different purposes and personalities. I want to say Sampo is symbolized by Day Six because of the Curio Hacker occurrence, with other Curios being Emanators who range from pure elemental energy to machine devices to stuffed toys. Although, it is possible Sampo can be shuffled around here, as Doll!Sampo is more likely to be the ice cube and his current “helper” role lines up with “Synesthesia Omnihelper.” Sampo can actually fit with all of these, which is why I really feel like it is identity-related, but I still wanted to cover all the bases I could.

Overall, wow, that’s a lot! If I’m being completely honest, I’m still confused (as I feel most of us are). The more I think about this event, the more it seems like a giant puzzle box to me, turning and turning and turning again every time I get close to an answer. Perhaps that’s how Sampo feels about his own existence, and why he’s trying so hard to figure himself out. I really hope this analysis didn’t come across as a scattered mess, because that’s definitely what I felt like writing it. I wanted to get my thoughts out, but there are so many alternative options and theories that I could barely get my head straight! It felt nice to get it out, though, and whatever happens, I’m happy we got to talk to Sampo again. He’s just so interesting! Anyways, I’m going to go take a nice, long nap now. I’ll leave you with some key questions to consider — bye!

.✦ ── ✦.

Key Questions

.✦ ── ✦.

— Did Aha “steal” Sampo from another creator, such as an Aeon or organization? If so, how and for what purpose? (If not Aha, then who may have “stolen” him?)

— What is Sampo’s true identity? We know certain things about his mythological function, but how does that translate into the HSR universe?

— What is the timeline of his “abandonment”? When was he left on Belobog, and by who? Was Belobog even the place he was left, or was it somewhere else?

— Was he originally elemental energy, electricity, or something conceptual? Was he organic or inorganic? And, if Aha did “steal” him, what changes were made to his form?

— How does Sampo feel about Aha? Is Aha a cruel, thieving presence in his life? Are They an accepting, freeing one? Are They a distant, unreachable god? Are They a mix of all three?

— What is Sampo’s relationship with the Aha Stuffed Toys? Was he created as one himself? Was he turned into one when he was stolen? Did he “create” them at the behest of Aha? Does he simply act as a middleman to get them from one place to another?

— What is Sampo's connection to Mundanite Assembly, if any? How might the days of this event fit in with each "chapter" of the Unknown Domain chronology?

— And, for heaven's sake, who the hell is this man?

— thanks for reading to the end! :)

— here's links (one | two) to posts with the memes i wanted to include because i literally hit the image limit on this LOL!

© analysis by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[steviestits]

Lord Munson Takes a Bride - Part 1.3

Written for a dm prompt, which can be read in its entirety on this fic's masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: T (E in later chapters) Summary: When Steve Harrington was shipped off to the Buckley farm after embarrassing his parents by presenting as an omega, he thought that he was done with high society and would spend the rest of his days caring for chickens and horses. That is until one day, the mysterious Lord Munson arrives at his doorstep to mate with him after his parents promised Steve to him so they could renew their squandered fortunes. Now Steve has to learn how to be a proper omega as he allows the alpha to court him. But there seems to be more to the arrangement than Steve knows, along with a lingering memory of a servant from his past. (Regency Era Omegaverse au which takes inspiration from Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, and the Count of Monte Cristo.) Eventual Trigger Warning: Mpreg

(Link to previous part)

Lord Munson didn’t look angry, however, as his cheek throbbed a bright red. A look of hurt and confusion marred the alpha’s handsome features before he quickly schooled his expression into one that was more neutral. He then promptly placed his hat back upon his head and adjusted the brim with annoyed huff.

“Very well, pack your precious belongings,” Lord Munson sneered. “But be quick about it, lest you try my patience, and trust me, you do not want to try my patience.”

Begrudgingly, Steve curtsied, forcing a look of gratitude on his face while he reminded himself that this was for his family. “You’re too kind, my lord,” he said, doing his best not to let any of the sarcasm he felt leak into his words. “I’ll go pack my things at once.”

The alpha narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as he turned Steve’s tone over thoughtfully, but ultimately, he took the omega’s words at face value and replied, “See that you do, but make haste. If I have to come in to collect you, then you’re leaving with nothing. Is that clear?”

“As crystal, my lord.”

Steve then curtsied again before he turned on his heel to march back to his room, though not before catching Lord Munson mutter something under his breath about willful omegas. He chose to ignore the alpha’s bitter attitude. All upper-class alphas were the same. They only wanted to marry omegas that were good for breeding then became confused when said omegas rebuffed their advances, which Steve should know since he used to be friends with several previously.

Walking back to his room didn’t take long, though he wished it had taken longer so he could stomp around a little longer. Steve instead did as he was sent to do, not wishing to test the alpha’s patience any more than he had, and pulled out a dusty trunk from the back of his wardrobe. He hadn’t used it since he had arrived at the Buckley farm, since his parents had never summoned him back to the city, so he assumed he would remain here for the rest of his natural life.

A bittersweet feeling washed over Steve as he brushed off the trunk and placed it onto his bed. He had actually begun to enjoy his time here on the farm. The work was hard at first, and Robin’s attitude had been abrasive, but eventually, he began to view this place as home. Robin had become like a sister to him, making a pit form in his stomach as he realized that he might not see her again once he rejoined society with Lord Munson.

“Stevie?” Robin’s voice sounded before there was a timid knock on the door. “Stevie, I just heard the news. Can I come in?”

Steve ran to the door and flung it open, pulling her into a hug as he did so. Burying his head into her neck, he took in the sweet smell of apples and roses that was uniquely Robin. There was still a warmth on her body from working in the garden, bringing back memories of them gossiping while pulling weeds. He was going to miss this. He was going to miss her, and a part of him selfishly wished he could bring her with him, but he knew Lord Munson would never allow it, as he was barely letting Steve take any of his previous belongs. Another omega who was like a sister to him would certainly be out of the question.

Robin hugged him back then pulled away, so she could cup his cheek while rubbing her comforting scent onto him with the gland in her risk. The touch helped ground him and allow the tightness inside him to loosen slightly. It was still there, because he still had to leave with Lord Munson, but at least she had made it back to the house in time, so he wouldn’t have to leave without saying goodbye to her.

“I still don’t quite understand, though,” Robin said with a small frown. “Why have you suddenly decided to marry Lord Munson? Why has he suddenly come to ask for your hand?”

“My parents,” Steve explained. “They made a few bad investments, and Lord Munson has offered to help them in exchange for allowing him to take me as his mate.”

“They don’t talk to you for nearly ten years, and yet you still decide to sacrifice yourself for them? You didn’t tell them to make those bad investments. Why should you have to carry their burden instead of fixing it themselves!?”

“Because they’re my parents,” he sighed, hating himself a little for his desire for their love. “And if they are willing to admit that there is a male omega in the Harrington bloodline, then it must mean they are in dire straits without any other way to resolve the issues. They’re desperate.”

“Then let them be desperate. You’ve heard the rumors about Lord Munson. He’s a solitary brute. Everyone in town has said as such. Said that he has an air of danger around him.”

“I know better than anyone what they say, but I cannot abandon them like they did me. If I turn my back on them, aren’t I no better than them?”

Tears welled in Robin’s eyes as she said, “You’re a complete dingus.”

“I know, Robs. I know.”

Then Robin pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly. “If he lays so much as a finger on you, tell me,” she demanded. “You tell me, and I’ll make him wish he was never born.”

Steve could hear it in her voice that her words weren’t an idle threat, that she meant every bit of her statement. That warmed Steve to his core, glad that he had someone like her to care for him as much as she did. He didn’t know what he did to deserve her companionship, though he wasn’t going to complain as he never wished her to realize she could do better than him in regards to a best friend and brother.

“Of course. And he does have a summer home here. Maybe- Maybe once we’re mated, he’ll allow me to visit you or meet up with you to do shopping in town.”

“He better. He better, Steve, because you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Though he knew he should continue packing, Steve continued to hold onto Robin for just a little bit longer, etching the moment into his memory. He had heard the rumors about Lord Munson, how he never hired any staff from town and took his own everywhere with him. Everyone said that no matter where Lord Munson was from or his origin, he was clearly an inconsiderate scoundrel, who only had his own interested in mind. Not that the rumors changed anything, as Lord Munson was his alpha now, whether he liked it or not.

Part 1.2 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 2.1 (Coming Soon-ish)

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

adding the 3rd interview from that day here, the one where Harry says Louis is a good boyfriend and treats him really well.

the tag here from 2015 was "and they haven't done an interview together in the last 3 1/2 years" and now it's almost 13 years later and they have never ever been allowed to do another interview together.

clown ass Syco & Modest! behaviour

like, i need to rant for a second. my memory is awful, so i basically watched these interviews with fresh eyes. they're obviously super comfortable (dare i say: domestic) with each other. the flirting, the banter and the mirroring, and how it sounds like they already knew every single answer the other one is gonna give.. everything is so lovely. it's so obvious how how they sometimes get lost looking at each other and how freely and easily they touch each other. but watching these also got me thinking if you think about interviews where Harry actually said to Zayn, about Louis: "Don't say that.. that he's gay!" (x) "Lou, can I give you a blowjob?" (x) "Louis'.. Louis' boyfriend!" / "Can't choose boyfriend." (x) "And I'd marry you, Harry." (x) "I'd take Harry for the night." (x) (For my a dinner date I'd choose) Harry: "You, Louis." (x) "My first real crush was Louis Tomlinson." (x) "Are you and Louis dating?" Harry: *nods & blushes* (x) "She looks like Harry". Then, Louis: "Marriage. Sex, everything." (x) "Female." - Harry: "Not that important." (x) (re: sleeping with a man) Harry: "Hey, don't knock it 'till you try it!" (x) "Now kiss me, you fool!" (x) "What does Harry taste like?" - Louis: "Salt and vinegar." (x) and their million domestic tweets at and about each other (extensive tweets tag by the wonderful @skepticalarrie)

(and these are only the ones that quickly came to me off the top of me tired brain), then that decision truly baffles and angers me even more. There's like dozens and dozens more instances like the mentioned+linked ones, oftentimes where words weren't even said and they just touched or looked at each other.. and oh my god.. the FRISCO interview just a month after Paris, where Louis declared "some people genuinely think.. they GeNuiNeLy think that we're together!" and Liam says "You are, though, aren't ya!" and Harry just nods, all dazed and still wearing his cock-appointment-blush and then Zayn moves the topic towards him and Harry and curiously, nobody ever says "so it's not true!". and then the air kisses and sign language love declarations and their at least 7 matching tattoos (that we know of). the absolutely besotted way they looked at each other from day one. the way they verbally supported each other; defended each other and got obviously jealous over someone else touching either of them. and the rings Harry was gifted by Louis that he's still wearing almost 12 years later... like--

all of this still happened despite them never again being interviewed just the two of them or even getting a fucking segment just the two of them during things like 1D Day! which is so telling.

and all of this compared to how they behaved with each other during those Paris interviews -the ones that were -to Modest! obviously too much? let's be SO fr.. in my personal opinion, those interviews are very tame compared to everything else. they're rather sweet and polite and they didn't even touch each other nearly as much as they did in group interviews, because obviously that is safer, because you've got a lot more distraction for the eye with five guys instead of two. In one of the 3 interviews, Louis is even pretty quiet and calm; just seems very peaceful (or thoughtful). (which is just my personal interpretation, there could be lots of reasons for it)

And they were the same age in Paris as they were for a lot of the things they let slip in other group interviews then. sometimes when they didn't know it was being picked up by a mic or camera, but oftentimes they knew and still couldn't / didn't want to stop themselves :')

I could write a lot more about the hypocrisy of it all or how devastating it still feels and how angry it still makes me -almost 15 years later-, how swiftly and deeply they were shoved into the closet, when every other very private detail of their personal lives was being dragged into the public, twisted and turned and "marketed" to death. (and the latter was obviously fucking damaging to all of them) I shudder to imagine how much homophobia they were exposed to by the people who were supposed to nurture and guide them when their families and friends couldn't be with them. Obviously, the fact that they -so early on- were tried to be kept separated like that portrays just how desperate Clowndest! tried to do "damage control". And of course they failed, but not for lack of squeezing these two into such a sinister iron closet for so many years; piling up contracted lies upon contracted lies that added to all the pressure of two young people who were giving their love a try.. the more lies they piled up, the harder would it be for them later on.

and now look where we are now. they persisted, but at what cost?

Louis & Harry Paris Interviews

How many interviews are there of just Louis and Harry? I’m talking video interviews of L + H, sans Niall, Liam or Zayn to babysit them. There seem to only be a grand total of 2. And both took place on the same day. (February 14, 2012…Was it really on Valentine’s Day??) The Teemix interview below is broken up into 4 parts, but it’s all one interview.

This post actually took me longer than you might think because I tried so hard to find other video interviews of H + L. There aren’t any. Shocking, right?

L’Interview Paris - Fan2Fr

Highlights include: 

At 4:30 Louis reading Harry’s Hot and Dangerous on the fan-art: “Of course he’s hot” 

4:51 Harry says of Louis, “I would describe it more as funny and handsome and rugged…A bit more manly” and Louis gives the brightest most amused smile to the camera.

The looks they give each other at the end of the video with the whole ‘dangerous dave(?)’ thing. Many people hear Harry say ‘I’ll get you for that tonight’ in response. I suck at deciphering these things, but it would make sense given  Louis’ laughing reaction to it.

Teemix Interview 1 of 4

Louis’ face at 3:24 when waiting for Harry to describe Niall’s characteristics.

Louis softly pushing Harry’s hair back at 3:40 when describing him as ‘curly.’ He just..keeps..going..oh my god it’s adorable.

Teemix Interview 2 of 4

The way they finish each others’ sentences, talking about being normal lads. They seem so in sync and sound so relaxed about it.

At 0:38 – L: We still pop down to the shop every now and again– H: Bread and milk. L: Yep, the standard.

Teemix Interview 3 of 4

At 0:20 when describing their ideal girl, Harry corrects Louis’ ‘good sense of humour’ comment with ‘GREAT sense of humour’ and Louis nods ‘yeah’ with the most earnest, serious agreement I’ve ever seen from a person in a boyband answering a generic question. They’re clearly describing each other.

This entire segment is a ridiculous display of how calm and in sync these two are. Telling the story of Liam’s chat up lines, agreeing on their favourite date spots (1:35), Louis proudly suggesting ‘cook them their favourite meal’ (2:12), they’re so at ease with each other and so willing to agree on every little thing.

At 2:42 Louis tries to figure out how long he’s been with Eleanor and Harry suggests ‘a year?’. Harry’s just straight-up laughing at this point and again, clearly talking about him and Louis.

‘I would definitely say Harry is the most confident with girls’ and then he GRINS.

The way they’re smiling at each other at the end is too much. Louis tells Harry, ‘you’re on a whole new level of charm, man’ and can’t stop grinning.

Here’s a slow-mo gif of Louis’ cute head roll, when faced with having to choose his favourite love song. 

Teemix Interview 4 of 4

They cut off Louis at 1:52 here and it makes me realise I can’t even imagine what the unedited version of these L + H interviews is like…

[anaquariusfox]

I spent the evening looking into this AI shit and made a wee informative post of the information I found and thought all artists would be interested and maybe help yall?

edit: forgot to mention Glaze and Nightshade to alter/disrupt AI from taking your work into their machines. You can use these and post and it will apparently mess up the AI and it wont take your content into it's machine!

edit: ArtStation is not AI free! So make sure to read that when signing up if you do! (this post is also on twt)

[Image descriptions: A series of infographics titled: “Opt Out AI: [Social Media] and what I found.” The title image shows a drawing of a person holding up a stack of papers where the first says, ‘Terms of Service’ and the rest have logos for various social media sites and are falling onto the floor. Long transcriptions follow.

Instagram/Meta (I have to assume Facebook).

Hard for all users to locate the “opt out” options. The option has been known to move locations.

You have to click the opt out link to submit a request to opt out of the AI scraping. *You have to submit screenshots of your work/face/content you posted to the app, is curretnly being used in AI. If you do not have this, they will deny you.

Users are saying after being rejected, are being “meta blocked”

People’s requests are being accepted but they still have doubts that their content won’t be taken anyways.

Twitter/X

As of August 2023, Twitter’s ToS update:

“Twitter has the right to use any content that users post on its platform to train its AI models, and that users grant Twitter a worldwide, non-exclusive, royalty-free license to do so.”

There isn’t much to say. They’re doing the same thing Instagram is doing (to my understanding) and we can’t even opt out.

Tumblr

They also take your data and content and sell it to AI models.

But you’re in luck!

It is very simply to opt out (Wow. Thank Gods)

Opt out on Desktop: click on your blog > blog settings > scroll til you see visibility options and it’ll be the last option to toggle

Out out of Mobile: click your blog > scroll then click visibility > toggle opt out option

TikTok

I took time skim their ToS and under “How We Use Your Information” and towards the end of the long list: “To train and improve our technology, such as our machine learning models and algorithms.”

Regarding data collected; they will only not sell your data when “where restricted by applicable law”. That is not many countries. You can refuse/disable some cookies by going into settings > ads > turn off targeted ads.

I couldn’t find much in AI besides “our machine learning models” which I think is the same thing.

What to do?

In this age of the internet, it’s scary! But you have options and can pick which are best for you!

Accepting these platforms collection of not only your artwork, but your face! And not only your faces but the faces of those in your photos. Your friends and family. Some of those family members are children! Some of those faces are minors! I shudder to think what darker purposes those faces could be used for.

Opt out where you can! Be mindful and know the content you are posting is at risk of being loaded to AI if unable to opt out.

Fully delete (not archive) your content/accounts with these platforms. I know it takes up to 90 days for instagram to “delete” your information. And even keep it for “legal” purposes like legal prevention.

Use lesser known social media platforms! Some examples are; Signal, Mastodon, Diaspora, et. As well as art platforms: Artfol, Cara, ArtStation, etc.

The last drawing shows the same person as the title saying, ‘I am, by no means, a ToS autistic! So feel free to share any relatable information to these topics via reply or qrt!

I just wanted to share the information I found while searching for my own answers cause I’m sure people have the same questions as me.’ \End description] (thank you @a-captions-blog!)

[tacticalhimbo]

HURRICANE HELENE RELIEF

Since I'm incredibly anxious and very much annoyed, I'm compiling this post as a sort of master list of relief organizations and individual fundraisers for those in the path of Hurricane Helene.

Many of the links I post on this won't be individuals, but I encourage those within the path to add their links to this post in reblogs! Likewise, if you have any organizations / volunteer / grassroots efforts y'all would like to share, please do so!

LAST EDITED: 9/29/2024 - MAKE SURE TO CHECK REBLOGS FOR UPDATES!

My list is particularly focused on widely accessible resources, as well as Florida specific resources since... I'm from Florida.

(INTER)NATIONAL ORGANIZATIONS

American Red Cross - The American Red Cross is on the ground helping people as Hurricane Helene approaches land as a very dangerous storm. Helene may produce winds over 150 mph, a massive 20-foot-high storm surge and as much as a foot of rain. Prolonged power outages and tornadoes may occur. The effects will be felt hundreds of miles inland including in Georgia and the Carolinas.

FEMA Disaster Assistance Improvement Program - The Disaster Assistance Improvement Program’s (DAIP) mission is to provide disaster survivors with information, support, services, and a means to access and apply for disaster assistance through joint data-sharing efforts between federal, tribal, state, local, and private sector partners.

Roll Mobility - An application that equips wheelchair users with reliable information about the accessibility of restaurants, public spaces, businesses, trails, and parking areas. Good information to have on hand, especially for those evacuating from their home areas.

Warmline Directory - Providing extensive yet accessible resources that empower individuals to find the mental health and wellness resources they need through a directory containing accurate and in-depth information. For those unfamiliar: Unlike a crisis line, a warm line operator is unlikely to call the police or have someone locked up if they talk about suicidal or self-harming thoughts or behaviors. A good resource for individuals in mental distress due to natural disaster circumstances.

Food Not Bombs - Recovers food that would have been discarded and share it as a way of protesting war and poverty. They also reduce food waste and meet the direct need of communities by collecting discarded food, preparing vegan meals that they share with the hungry while providing literature about the need to change our society. Food Not Bombs also provides food to protesters and striking workers and organizes food relief after natural and political crisis.

Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies - The Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies (The Partnership) is the only U.S. disability-led, 501(c)(3) organization that prioritizes equity, access, disability rights, disability justice, and full inclusion of people with disabilities, older adults, and people with access and functional needs before, during and after disasters and emergencies.

FLORIDA

Volunteer Florida Disaster Fund - The Florida Disaster Fund is the State of Florida’s official private fund established to assist Florida’s communities as they respond to and recover during times of emergency or disaster. In partnership with the public sector, private sector and other non-governmental organizations, the Florida Disaster Fund supports response and recovery activities.

State and Local Level Referrals - When a disaster occurs, local governments often work together with community leaders and organizations to provide on-the-ground emergency management. Curated by FEMA. (Has 52 Organizations Listed)

GEORGIA

State and Local Level Referrals - When a disaster occurs, local governments often work together with community leaders and organizations to provide on-the-ground emergency management. Curated by FEMA. (Has 60 Organizations Listed)

TENNESSEE

State and Local Level Referrals - When a disaster occurs, local governments often work together with community leaders and organizations to provide on-the-ground emergency management. Curated by FEMA. (Has 49 Organizations Listed)

NORTH CAROLINA

State and Local Level Referrals - When a disaster occurs, local governments often work together with community leaders and organizations to provide on-the-ground emergency management. Curated by FEMA. (Has 45 Organizations Listed)

Beloved Asheville - A community-led coalition dedicated to providing home, healthy, equity, and opportunity for all.

Triangle NC - This links to another post I've made, but Triangle Mutual Aid is organizing supply drop offs as well as financial support.

SOUTH CAROLINA

State and Local Level Referrals - When a disaster occurs, local governments often work together with community leaders and organizations to provide on-the-ground emergency management. Curated by FEMA. (Has 44 Organizations Listed)

INDIVIDUAL FUNDRAISERS

Support a Resilient Family Seeking a New Home - LINK ; Tumblr @junpei-iori-ace-defective (Close Friend of the Affected) | Fundraiser Text Below:

My name is Adam. I'm not the best at this; I never thought I'd have to do this, but my family and I lost our home on September 26th due to the hurricane Helene here in Florida. No one in our area thought it would get bad, but we didn't have any rain. All of a sudden, the water rose, and by midnight, our home was flooded with three feet of water. I had to carry our pets to the neighbors and my disabled wife through five feet of water. Then, my elderly disabled mother and grandmother through the water. We lost all of our clothes and many of our belongings, and our landlord will be having us move out. We have nowhere to go, so today I'm asking for help from the kindness of the world. Anything can help. If I can get enough to get us into a new home, it would be a blessing. Thank you all, and God bless.

Help Rebuild Lives After Devastating Flash Flood - LINK ; Tumblr @undeadnecromancer (Close Friend of the Affected) | Fundraiser Text Below:

On September 27, after being trapped in a flash flood for 5 hours, my father, Jeffrey Fuller, and sister, Kayla Fuller, left with their lives ❤️ but lost everything else. My father had set his life up to be simple and enjoyable. He didn't have a lot extra, but he had everything he needed, and now all of that is gone. Unfortunately, he did not have flood insurance, and the older you get, the harder it is to bounce back from something like this. For a man who has always shown up for everyone he loves, he needs us to show up now. Please help my father rebuild.

If you have seen the video circulating around from Jeffrey Fuller where it looks like a river is going through his house and he ends it with a “Love you all,” you have seen what has brought on this devastation.

Hurricane Helene Aftermath Help - LINK ; Tumblr @moonenjoyer (Affected Individual) | Fundraiser Text Below:

Man I hate to do this but I'm in Valdosta, one of the cities hit the worse by Hurricane Helene. It's BAD here. In particular, there's no estimate of when we'll get power back. Word on the street is it could be a week or longer.

I work from home and going without power that long, I won't be making any money. Meanwhile my groceries are all spoiled in a fridge with no power and my car is on E. All the gas stations are down atm and when they're back up I KNOW gas prices are going to be crazy high because of all of this. In fact, EVERYTHING is going to be more expensive for a while because of this.

If you have anything to spare to help me with gas and groceries and just surviving this, I'd really appreciate it. If not, a reblog/share would mean a lot. Thank you ❤️

Save Nate and Amanda's First Home - Urgent Hurricane Needs - LINK ; Tumblr @luckyfirerabbit (Affected Individual) | Fundraiser Text Below:

Hi. I'm Porter Henderson. This isn't about me, though. You’re going to see a lot of fundraisers with Hurricane Helene. This might be a little different.

You see, I’m writing this on behalf of my landlords and friends, Nate and Amanda. The home we share with an additional disabled man in Lithonia, Georgia had some repairs that they couldn't afford, made much worse by the hurricane. They'd been limping along like everyone dealing with inflation and underemployment, but the situation has become urgent, and they need and deserve help.

Nate and Amanda have been my friends for over a decade, and when they heard I was no longer able to work and in a bad situation, they offered me a place in their first home. I told them I wasn’t sure what or when I would be able to pay. They told me that if I ever won my disability case I could start paying rent then.

You see, I'm trying so hard to save this home because they’ve tried so hard to save me.

I was so grateful to move in, and they treated me like family. When I lost the ability to drive, they made sure I got to my doctor’s appointments, and still do. When I can’t afford food, they take me to food banks, and what I can’t find there they’ll help me get at the store. They meet all the needs they could reasonably meet, and then a couple more.

I’ve lived here for three years now, and they’ve never stopped assuring me that I am wanted, even if I can’t contribute to the household on a daily basis. They have never let me go without if there was any other way. They have helped friends and strangers every time they have seen a need. They are unfailingly honest, incredibly trustworthy, and extremely hardworking people.

They've never had much, but they've shared everything they have.

Now, though, the hurricane turned a seem in our roof into a gushing waterfall, and finally into a large hole in Nate and Amanda's bedroom ceiling.

We tarped the leaking roof from the inside to channel out as much water as we could, but with a literal hurricane outside, there’s only so much that you can do.

The three of us who couldn’t get into the attic pushed our chronically ill bodies past their limits, dragging furniture away from walls, hauling totes as fast as we could with our canes, shoving empty containers into the corner as we kicked the debris out, and researching strategies for how to deal with the nightmare. Later we would wade through flooding water to dump out rain and tie down loose trash cans, shine lights and relay directions from the attic to outside, as we all attempted to get the water venting outside the house.

To make matters worse, the HVAC needs to be replaced. It’s a seventeen year old system, with a huge crack in the (inaccessible) drain pan and a bad motherboard. Some friends pooled money with Nate and Amanda to get a couple of window air conditioners for the summer. With medications that make three of us sensitive to heat, it’s been a rough summer, but we got through.

Unfortunately, winter is a few weeks away, and it’s going to be a little less than seventeen thousand for a new system to be installed.

What makes it an emergency however, is that without the drying and air movement of the AC, trying to dehumidify everything is going to be even harder, giving us a greater chance of mold. If mold takes hold, I'm not sure if we can save the house.

This fundraiser is for the $2,500 hurricane deductible that we're almost certainly going to be charged by the homeowner's policy and the $17,000 for the HVAC, plus estimated fees for the platform.

Not included in the total are any cleaning supplies, or a tiny storage unit and rental truck if we need one to store all of their bedroom furniture while the roof is redone. (We won't know about any of that until we get the estimate from insurance/roofing.) The claim has already been filed.

The air conditioning is a pre-existing problem, and I've found no way for it to be covered by any charity, government program, or private programs in the state. The ones that my social worker knew about didn't apply (I applied anyway) and I let her know about two more that I found. The religious groups I've reached out to in my area don't work in anything but clothing, children's furniture, and durable medical goods.

If additional costs emerge, or anything ends up being less expensive, I will update and adjust the goal accordingly as soon as I find out.

Please help these genuinely good people. The smallest donation helps. So does sharing.

Thank you in advance.

[astheforcewillsit]

In which the Kaminoans provide a miseducated version of what and who the Jedi are, and the clones realize that at their core, the Jedi are religious monks.

Cultural misunderstands are bound to ensue due to this.

(based of the scene where Obi-wan and Anakin bow to Echo and Fives after they join the 501st)

(original ao3 link)

The first time Obi-Wan bows to Cody, he does so low and Infront of the men. All of the men. It is not a simple incline of his head. It is a slow, low dip.

Ancient practiced movements, just as Qui-Gon had taught him.

They had had saved his life. Again And he is truly grateful. He is still unused to a war like this. His very essence as a Jedi protests his involvement in it.

But he moves only by the will of the Force, and it has brought him to such a moment like this.

Before he completes his gratitude, he is stunned by a collective gasp amongst the men and an arm on his shoulder. The Force tells him it is one of the younger men.

There's a sharp reprimand from Cody, and the arm is off, though the Force is still disturbed

(The touch had not bothered Obi-Wan, in between droids and separatist leaders, it has been the kindest touch he's had all week.

It doesn't bother him, the touch of the clones. He enjoys their presence. Though he can feel the fear palatable through the Force. He hopes that one day they'll be less terrified of him. That they will know him for the human he is. Force knows the damage the Kaminoans have done to the reputation of the Jedi Order.)

Cody steps up as Obi-Wan rises--clearly the action disturbed the peace.

"Sir, I-"

"Clearly I have done something to offend you." He straightens himself, "I apologize."

Cody looks scandalized. This is not going well.

He hesitates. His Commander is still a Labyrinth. He looks at the face of Jango Fett everyday, though he sees none of the darkness clouded in those eyes. With Cody, it's almost fear.

"Sir, there is no need to apologize to us. it's just..."

"it's a sign that we've done wrong and have to ask for forgiveness, usually done by subordinates--cadets to the Kaminoans or the bounty hunters that trained us. When you did that, well...it looked like you thought you did something wrong, that maybe you were asking for forgiveness or was ashamed," another clone (Boil, Obi-Wan reminds himself, the "shiny" who touched him) supplies with some distaste, "doesn't mean the same for you sir?"

Obi-Wan could confuse them, because technically Jedi do bow for forgiveness too. But not in shame, never. He decides to keep it beginner level friendly today.

"I am expressing gratitude. You saved my life," Obi-Wan responds as if it is the most obvious thing, "Though If I have done anything wrong, it has simply been confusing you all. I will not bow if it makes you all comfortable."

His culture is important to him. It his his blood and his soul, but these men are not here with him of their own accord. These men are making sacrifices just by being alive, Obi-Wan could stand to be more like them. Though his heart pulls at the thought of abandoning something so natural to him.

"No sir, that is not necessary," Cody seems to relax in front of him. His anxiety has dissolved into gentle waves in the Force, and instead Obi-Wan senses a small bit of curiosity.

It reverberates through the company.

"Should we..."

"Oh Force no, if bowing has been negative to you please do not do it on my account. And I will alter it," he makes an example, inclining his head just slightly and putting a hand to his chest, praying he doesn't offend, "I am grateful to you all, and I endeavor to show it."

"Only what you're comfortable with, your culture is sacred to you, I know this," he adds, "and if you never tell me anything, I will be okay with that."

"Can you...can we learn more. The kaminoans didn't tell us you did that, they didn't tell us you were...priest--"

"Monks," Obi-wan corrects and smiles at the clone who asked, Waxer the Force tells him, "And I will till you all you want to know about the Jedi, if you feel comfortable telling me about who you are."

There's reluctance in the Force. They may not be Mandalorians, but they carry the secrecy of their beliefs with them. He doesn't blame them. They have so little that belongs to them, the clones. Why give what scarcity they own away to the man who they were handed to on a silver platter.

The Force radiates skepticism, but also trust.

Good, the gap is slowly bridging.

[zara-renata]

Hi, I write fanfiction about Love and Deepspace. Currently Sylus-dominant (heh), although I love and appreciate most of the LIs. Full summaries and tags are in each link.

The Sylus series

Part 1 Alike and cornered beast, Sylus's POV | ao3

I was desperate for Sylus's point of view during the first time that MC meets him in the Alike and Cornered Beast chapters of Long-Awaited Revelry. I wanted to know why he touches MC so reverently but also quite brutally, so I spent a lot of time thinking about possibilities and this is the result.

Part 2 Roleplay, undercurrents, and rising curtain, Sylus's POV | ao3

MC has PTSD from chapter 4 (you know the one), and no one can convince me otherwise, so I re-wrote the auction bits from Sylus's POV to fix this grievous oversight, because I am also firmly convinced he is a champ at handling MC's trauma.

Part 3 No way out, revised | ao3

I thought that MC was too mean to Sylus in his 4 star No Way Out card, and I didn't like it, so I fixed it. I mean, I rewrote how it went like a proper rabid fan.

Part 4 Datura tea, or how all you want is to get some sleep | ao3

You're suffering from insomnia due to untreated PTSD (probably, I don't know, I'm not a doctor or a therapist) from your family getting, well, exploded, and the longer this goes on, the sloppier you become in combat and just existing, and a bad idea is born.

Part 5 Sylus gets a headache | ao3

Sylus has secured the promise from you that he can use your place as a safe house if he's in the area and needs it. Sylus's definition of "need", it turns out, might be different than your own, as illustrated by the first time he shows up unannounced at your door.

Part 6 Wine time with Sylus | ao3

Sylus invites himself over, helps himself to your first aid kit and your kitchen, manipulates you into tasting wine with him, discusses his latest business venture, and gifts you more than one present before he's good and ready to finally leave.

Part 7 Sylus's guide to hiring, or Wine time with Sylus: his POV | ao3

Sylus mulls over all the data he has managed to collect regarding his sweet little hunter so far, and spends some time considering mistakes he's made and his plans for the future. He also hires a new employee and is required to teach the twins to mind their manners in front of guests he's trying to intimidate.

Part 8 Not my type | ao3

Sylus pesters you on your day off while you're at the arcade until you agree to "lend your talents" to him for the evening. So of course you show up at the designated location only to discover it's a nightclub, and you're dressed for a murder, but not on the dance floor.

Control: a Sylus series interlude | ao3

You are feeling a bit depressed after completing a mission that didn't go 100% the way you wanted. Mephisto, and then Sylus, pay you a visit to cheer you up.

Part 10 Sylus makes a deal | ao3

Sylus answers some questions, receives dating advice from a dubious source, makes a deal you can't refuse, receives a birthday invitation, and plans to take you home for the night.

Part 11 Even the rocks on the roadside in the N109 Zone could tell | ao3

Sylus makes one final miscalculation. You wake up from a nightmare in a place you weren't ready to revisit. Sylus has to reckon with the inevitable consequences of how he treated you when you first met him, but you're paying the higher price.

Part 12 Even the rocks on the roadside - Sylus's POV | ao3

Sylus tries to get some paperwork done in his office while you sleep. He receives a call that turns his night upside down and makes him regret some strategic choices he's made up until this point in conquering your heart.

Part 13 Q&A with Sylus Qin | ao3

Sylus cares for your injuries and feeds you a meal. After he shows you a part of his home that you didn't know existed, you finally ask him why he was so cruel to you when you first met him. Sylus does his best to answer with as much honesty as he can right now.

Part 14 How you learned to stop worrying and embrace Sylus Qin | ao3

Sylus reveals his latest little plot and makes you an offer that you ultimately can't refuse. More lying around talking in different beds with Sylus Qin.

Part 15 The dream, the tie, the tour, the dream | ao3

You have a good dream, get a guided tour of Onychinus's base by the chaos twins, talk yourself into being sad again, and then have another good dream

Creature Feature with Sylus Qin | ao3

You and Sylus dress up for a Halloween gala. This is a short little Sylus series interlude, occurring after these idiots finally get together.

Part 16 The right hand, the left hand, the heart of Sylus Qin | ao3

Sylus meets with his legal counsel while the twins give you a tour of the base, you wake up from a dream, Sylus wastes some eggs, you attempt to get to know Sylus better, and you have your first 'date' with Sylus Qin.

One Shots

Sleepy time with Xavier | ao3

You suffer from chronic fatigue and worry that Xavier is only placating you when he says it's fine on the occasions you're too exhausted to follow through on plans together. On one such bad day, he reassures you in a way that you can no longer doubt.

[yannawayne]

iv. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established Relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Arguments AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

The room falls into a stunned silence, every gaze drawn to your disheveled, bloodied appearance.

You attempt a casual wave, but it comes off as weak and awkward. Blood drips from your bruised knuckles, each drop splattering with a muted plop onto the polished floor. “Hey, everyone. Sorry, I’m late.”

Jason’s eyes flare with a dangerous glint of green as he barks, “What the fuck happened, kid?”

A typical dinner at the Waynes.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Wednesday, 6:54 PM - Catwoman’s Apartment, Gotham City. 

Three Days Later

THE ROOM IS QUIET except for the occasional rustle of clothing as you pack your things. You carefully fold your favorite hoodie, tucking it neatly into the suitcase. Next, you grab a few pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, and your worn-out sneakers. 

You pause, your fingers lingering on a framed photo resting on the edge of the dresser. It's a snapshot of you and Damian at a carnival, his arm slung over your shoulder, his lips gently pressed against your head. 

It’s been three days of radio silence between you and Damian. Three days of not speaking, which is practically a record for your relationship. And just when you were starting to get used to the peace and quiet, Bruce had to go and invite you and Selina to a celebratory dinner tonight. A gourmet guilt trip.

With a sigh, you place the photo gently on top of your clothes. Then you move to your desk, gathering a stack of notebooks crammed with sketches and half-finished plans scribbled on napkins and crumpled scraps of paper. You tuck them into the side pocket of your bag, carefully arranging the chaotic collection so that it all fits.

The door creaks open, and Selina steps into the room, her arms crossed with a proud smile playing on her lips.

“Packing up for your big adventure?” she asks.

You look up from your suitcase, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. It’s only for a month, but it feels like I’m leaving for a year.”

“A month isn’t so long.” Selina walks over, her feet thudding softly on the floor. She picks up a small figurine from your desk, examining it with a thoughtful expression. “Think of it as a chance to stretch your wings and maybe learn a thing or two.”

“Thanks.” You smile and turn back to your packing, reaching for your suit. The sleek, black material glistens under the soft light filtering through the window. You run your fingers over the spider emblem stitched into the back, feeling the familiar texture beneath your fingertips.

“You’re not seriously thinking of bringing the suit, are you?” she asks.

You hesitate, feeling the weight of the suit in your hands. “I thought I might need it. Just in case.”

“Well, you’re not planning on fighting crime in Stark Tower, are you?” she snarks, hands finding her hips as she gives you a look that clearly says she’s not buying your excuse. “This internship is a chance for you to have a life outside the vigilante shtick. It’s good for your future. A chance to live a normal life.”

“Normal? Mom, I stopped being normal the day I got these powers. There's no going back to that.”

“Maybe not,” Selina concedes, running gentle fingers through your hair. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have something close to it. You deserve to have options, to see what else is out there for you.”

You meet her gaze, your resolve unwavering. “I hear you. But I think I need to bring it. Just in case something goes wrong.”

Selina sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. “God. You are just as stubborn as me,” she says, rising to her feet with a resigned smile. “Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind about this internship. Give it a real shot, okay?”

“Promise,” you hum, feeling a small sense of relief. As you reach for the suit to tuck it into your bag, your phone buzzes insistently.

Quickly, you glance at the screen.

Morgana:

Busy tonight? There’s a shipment near the docks. Tech equipment from what I see.

You could infiltrate. They have valuable info.

It's… Black Mask.

For a while, you stare at the phone, your thumb hovering over the screen, itching to swipe through the new messages. But Selina is still standing nearby. With a soft cough and a resigned exhale, you place the phone face down on the floor, deliberately ignoring the message for now.

You turn your attention back to your suitcase, refocusing on the task at hand. Selina watches you with a knowing look but doesn’t press further. The silence in the room is filled with the subtle rustle of fabric and the soft clink of zippers as you continue packing.

“Ready for tonight?” Selina asks.

You nod, though a knot tightens in your stomach. Bruce’s congratulatory dinner feels less like a celebration and more like an impending test, especially with the unresolved tension between you and Damian hanging heavy.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” you reply, attempting to sound confident.

You zip up the suitcase, taking a moment to glance around the room. Everything seems to be in place, but you double-check, making sure you haven’t forgotten anything essential. 

Selina nods approvingly, then steps closer, bending to pull you into a hug. “I’ll go get dressed. You do too, alright?”

Selina leaves the room, her footsteps fading into the distance. Turning back to your suitcase, you rummage through the clothes, pulling out a pair of well-worn jeans and a red jacket. After slipping on some socks and sneakers, you reach for a black shirt. But as your hand hovers over the fabric, your gaze is drawn to your suit laid out on the bed.

The spider logo on its back glares at you, its eight-legged emblem almost seeming to reach out with an imperceptible pull, as if urging you to embrace your other self.

After a moment of inner conflict, you give in. You carefully pull on the suit beneath your clothes, the snug material wrapping around you like a second skin. With the suit in place, you slip on your black shirt, followed by the jacket and jeans. You tuck your mask into the pocket of your jacket.

Wearing a superhero suit under your clothes for a fancy dinner—definitely not a sign of insanity. Totally normal behavior. Call it creative paranoia.

With everything packed and ready, you head downstairs. Selina is still in her room, and you catch sight of her as she steps into view, looking a touch more formal than you in a sleek, off-shoulder black dress that hugs her curves. It’s short, tight, and elegant.

“Done already?” she hums, moving to her vanity and starting on her hair and makeup.

You nod, leaning against the doorframe and giving your hair a casual tousle. “Yeah, figured I’d keep it simple. Not sure I’m in the mood for fancy.”

Selina glances at you through the mirror, a small, reassuring smile curling her lips. “You look great. And don’t worry too much about tonight. It’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” you murmur, more to yourself than to her.

The clock on the wall reads 7:00. You have three hours before the dinner, and Selina, always the early planner, will be occupied with her preparations for a while.

Pulling out your phone, you check Morgan’s message again. If you played your cards right, you could handle the shipment bust quickly and still make it to the dinner on time.

Clearing your throat, you push yourself off the doorframe and tug your hood back on. You head downstairs, making sure to keep your movements casual and unhurried, as if nothing out of the ordinary is about to happen.

“I’ll be heading out for a bit. I want to get some flowers for Alfred,” you call out, your voice carrying through the house.

Selina glances up from her vanity, an eyebrow arching in curiosity. “Alright, but don’t be too long. We need to leave once the driver arrives.”

“Got it,” you reply with a quick nod, turning and heading out of the room. You make your way downstairs, slipping out the front door and into the crisp evening air.

Once you’re in the privacy of a nearby alleyway, you waste no time. Tugging off your shirt, you shove it into the pocket of your jacket, feeling a rush of adrenaline. You slip on your mask, adjusting it carefully until it fits snugly, the familiar material settling comfortably against your skin. Your jeans, jacket, and sneakers stay on for practicality, and you plan to put the black shirt back on later.

With everything in place, you secure your earpiece and gadgets, pressing the earpiece into position and activating it. The familiar hum of your tech springs to life, and you’re ready to move. 

The city’s sounds fade as you slip into the shadows.

“Morgz? You there?” you call out, already scaling up the side of a building.

A crackle of static precedes Morgan’s voice. “Yeah, I’m here. You on your way?”

“Just about to leave,” you reply, grabbing onto a ledge and pulling yourself up. “Any updates on the shipment?”

“It’s scheduled to arrive in about 30 minutes. The tech equipment is being unloaded from a truck into a warehouse. Security’s decent, but nothing you can’t handle. You’re only 15 minutes away from your spot right now.”

“Got it,” you confirm, reaching the rooftop and taking a moment to scan the area below. “I’ll keep you posted. Thanks for the heads-up.”

You launch into action, web-slinging towards the docks with a focus on speed. Normally, you’d be showboating and performing flips, but tonight, every second counts. The journey takes a bit longer than expected—20 minutes instead of 15.

As you approach the docks, you spot a boat pulling up to the edge, its silhouette cutting through the darkness.

“Surprised you even took this up,” Morgan’s voice murmurs through your earpiece. “Thought you weren't allowed to patrol on school nights.”

“Technically… I’m not,” you reply, weaving between buildings and adjusting your trajectory for a swift descent.

“Yeesh. Going rebellious already?”

“Teenage angst, remember?” you quip, a grin forming beneath your mask as you prepare to intercept the shipment

Landing on a rooftop adjacent to the warehouse, you take a moment to plan your entry. The warehouse is a large, industrial building with a few tall windows and a side door that looks like it’s used for deliveries.

Security cameras are mounted on the corners of the building, rotating every now and then. You quickly survey the area, noting the guards' position.

There are a couple of guards patrolling the perimeter, walking in predictable patterns. One guard is stationed near the side door, checking his watch occasionally. The other two are more mobile, taking turns walking around the exterior and scanning the area.

Beyond the security, you see five workers moving boxes from the boat to the warehouse. The open doors at the far end reveal crates of tech equipment being unloaded.

You activate your earpiece. "Update. Three guards outside. Five active workers. They've got cameras. Can you get those down for me?"

Morgan's voice crackles through your earpiece. "On it. Give me a sec."

You watch the cameras, waiting for them to go offline. The guard near the side door looks at his watch again, oblivious to what's about to happen. 

After a tense moment, Morgan's voice comes back. "Cameras are down. You've got about an hour before the system kicks in again. Oh. That and there are about 5 more guards inside."

"Perfect," you hum.

You time your movements with the guards' patrols, slipping through the shadows. You approach the side door, keeping low and quiet.

Inside, the warehouse is dimly lit, with stacks of crates creating narrow pathways. The workers are busy unloading the truck, their focus on the task at hand. You crawl up the walls swiftly and silently.

You spot a terminal near the back of the warehouse, its blinking lights indicating it’s connected to the inventory system.

Time to get to work.

“I'm at the terminal. What’s next?” you whisper into the earpiece.

Morgan’s voice comes through with a steady tone. “Plug in the flash drive to copy the inventory data. While that’s running, find the main control panel for the security system and plant the tracker. This will help us monitor future shipments.”

You nod, even though she can't see you. "Got it. Flash drive first, then tracker."

You slip to the terminal and plug in the flash drive, which hums softly as it starts copying data. Glancing around to make sure no one is watching, you head to the security control panel hidden behind some crates and quickly plant the tracker.

"The tracker is set," you inform Morgan.

"Great job. The data copy should be done soon. Once it’s finished, you can pull the flash drive and get out of there."

You head back to the terminal, keeping an eye on the workers and guards. The flash drive's light blinks, signaling it's almost finished. After a few tense moments, the light turns solid.

"Data copied," Morgan confirms. "You’re clear to go."

You pull out the flash drive, tuck it into your pocket, and start heading toward the exit, blending into the shadows. Just as you reach the door, you hear voices nearby.

“Hey, did you hear something?”

Your heart stops as the guard’s flashlight beam sweeps dangerously close to your hiding spot. You freeze, pressing yourself against the cold metal wall, barely breathing.

“Probably just a rat. Let's check it out just in case.”

You curse silently under your breath, watching as the guards start moving in your direction.

The first guard steps closer, his flashlight scanning the area. You silently crawl up the wall, positioning yourself above him. With a swift flick of your wrist, you shoot a web at the flashlight, yanking it out of his hand and into the darkness.

“What the—” the guard starts, but you quickly web his mouth shut and pull him up towards the ceiling, wrapping him tightly in webbing and securing him to the roof. You knock his head against the metal, and he passes out.

The second guard, alarmed by the sudden commotion, turns his back to you as he draws his weapon. The rifle fires, but your spider sense helps you dodge the shots. 

Cursing, you shoot a web at his feet, yanking his legs out from under him and sending him crashing to the ground. Before he can react, you web his hands to the floor and sling his weapon away.

Dropping from the ceiling, you slow your landing with a web and slam your foot down onto his head, knocking him out.

Despite the quiet disposal of the two guards, the earlier rifle shot already alerted the other workers and guards in the warehouse. You hear shouts and hurried footsteps approaching.

“Someone’s here! Find them!”

Guards scramble, their flashlights slicing through the darkness, casting erratic beams that dance across the warehouse walls. You sprint away, weaving between crates and machinery, but a new threat emerges from the shadows—a massive, burly man, easily twice your size. He’s built like a brick wall, his muscles straining against his uniform, and his face looks like it’s been chiseled out of stone, etched with a permanent scowl.

“Who’s messing around in 'ere?” the giant roars, his voice reverberating through the cavernous space. He brandishes a rifle, and from the looks of it, he seems to be their leader.

You glance at your watch—damn, it’s been two hours already. 

Only an hour left.

Still… you could probably get one fight in before leaving.

…

Swinging out of the shadows, you land in front of the giant, hands on your hips.

“Hi, Mr. Villain!” you call out, catching a punch he throws and giving his hand a playful shake. “I’m Spidey, your friendly neighborhood nuisance. Always nice to meet someone with such a ‘heavy’ presence. Looks like you’ve got a bit of a security problem here—totally my bad.”

The giant snarls at you. He fires his rifle, but you deftly dodge the bullets. With a swift move, you fire a web at his feet and arms, pinning him momentarily to the ground. The rifle is knocked from his hands, clattering out of reach.

The guards scramble to regroup, and you spring into action. Flipping back into the air, you disarm the remaining guards—quick web blasts here, a roundhouse kick there, an uppercut thrown. Each guard crumples under the assault, slamming against the walls one by one, webbed together in a tangled heap.

There’s a snap as the leader breaks free, roaring in fury and charging at you. You duck under his swinging arm and fire a web at a stack of crates. The crates topple and crash into his path, heavy wood and metal smashing together. He stumbles, cursing and flailing wildly.

“Careful there! You might just crush your own merchandise,” you taunt, sidestepping his erratic swings.

In that moment of distraction, you snatch his gun away with a quick webshot. But as you turn to face him again, a jolt of pure adrenaline slams through your veins, sharp and unrelenting, like an electric shock.

The world sharpens into hyperfocus. 

DANGER!

Your instincts scream at you to move. You leap to the side, but it’s already too late. A shadowy figure springs from the darkness, their knife catching a deadly glint in the harsh warehouse lights.

The blade slices through your suit, leaving a searing, agonizing wound. You stagger, clutching your side as blood seeps through the torn fabric and pools on the cold concrete. With a pained grimace, you muster the strength to shoot a web at the attacker, slamming them against the wall with a forceful swing.

“Spidey?! Come in. Shit. What happened to staying stealthy?” Morgan's voice crackles through the earpiece. “PEPPER, run back their vitals on me.”

A mechanical voice responds through your earpiece. “Vitals are stable. The wound is a deep six-inch laceration on the left side, with moderate blood loss, but the suit's padding has helped. The injury missed major organs and arteries. Immediate first aid and stitches are recommended.”

“Looks like I’ve got a new scar to show for tonight,” you heave, trying to ignore the throbbing pain as the giant stalks toward you. “But I’m not done yet.”

The man's roar shakes the warehouse.

“You think you can take me, you puny spider?!”

You lift your chin, tilting your head with a smirk. “Puny? That’s funny. I’ve taken down bigger.”

The giant lunges, brandishing a scrap of metal like a battering ram. You barely dodge, feeling the whoosh of air as it swings past. You retaliate with a web shot to his face, but he roars and swats it away, his massive arms tearing through your webbing.

“Careful there, big guy,” you quip, “I’m not into heavy metal, but thanks for the offer!”

His hand clamps onto your chest, lifting you off your feet with an alarming strength. He hurls you against a stack of crates, the impact slamming you into the wall. You slide down to the floor, dazed and with blood trickling from a split lip.

While you're down, the giant strides toward you, his heavy footsteps shaking the ground like a mini earthquake. You struggle to rise, just as he launches a flying knee. Your senses scream, a blaring alarm urging you to move.

!!!

With a yelp, you roll to the side, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow that hits where you had been seconds before.

“Hey, watch it! I’ve got places to be after this!” you yell.

Before you can react, a powerful punch slams into your face, sending you spiraling backward.

“Owie. That one’s definitely gonna leave a mark,” you groan, pain radiating through your skull. Desperately, you shoot a web at his legs, hoping to slow him down. The webbing holds for a moment before he rips through it with sheer brute force.

Groaning, you shake off the dizziness, rolling your shoulders to loosen them before pushing yourself back to your feet.

“Alright,” you mutter, taking a deep breath. “Clearly, the webs aren’t working. Guess we’re sticking to fists. Put ’em up, big guy.”

Laughing with a guttural, mocking tone, the giant charges at you. As he lunges, you brace yourself and bring your fist up to guard your face. With a burst of power, you jab forward. Your knuckles connect with his face with a sickening crunch, the sound of bone shattering and flesh splitting echoing through the warehouse like a thunderclap.

JAB!

The man staggers back, his head snapping violently to the side, blood spraying from his jaw. Before he can recover, you launch into a spinning kick. Your leg connects with explosive force, slamming him into the wall with a resounding thud.

You follow up with a powerful jump, driving a kick into his ribs. The impact echoes with a sickening crack. He roars in pain and collapses, slumped against the wall.

With quick reflexes, you shoot a web at a high pipe, coiling it tightly. You yank the pipe down with all your strength. It crashes onto the giant with a resounding clang, the impact knocking him out cold.

You take a couple of deep breaths, blood and sweat mingling on your clothes and face as you survey the wreckage. The giant groans weakly—alive, but definitely out of commission for the moment.

“Looks like the big guy’s all out of steam,” you murmur, wiping the blood from your brow with a grim smile. “Now, time to find that exit before my own steam runs out.”

With a final glance at the chaos you've left behind, you swing toward the exit. The cut on your side throbs with each movement—though it's slowly healing, the pain and blood are still very much present.

"Spidey? You alright? What the fuck, you just beat that guy within an inch of his life."

“He’ll live,” you huff as you swing through the streets. After fumbling around for a while, you pull your phone from your jacket and curse at the time. 

Only ten minutes before the car arrives. 

“Uh, Morgz, do me a favor. Where’s the nearest flower shop?”

"Christ. You just busted down an illegal tech deal and now you're out for flowers?" Morgan’s response comes through the earpiece before you hear some typing. “There’s a florist two blocks from your current location. I’m sending you the address. But—You really need to take care of that wound.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you reply. There's a ping as the location pops up on your phone. “Just need to pick up some flowers. Trust me, it’s important.”

You adjust your swing to head toward the florist, landing quietly in the alley outside. With quick movements, you slip off your mask and start changing. You discard your jacket, revealing the bloodied suit underneath. The suit’s dark color masks most of the stains, but it's still a grim sight.

Pulling on your shirt over the suit, you try to conceal the worst of the mess. The sticky, wet feeling of blood against your skin is unpleasant, and you grimace as you adjust the shirt. Finally, you slip the jacket back on, hoping it will help you blend in and give you a semblance of normalcy.

Taking a deep breath, you straighten up and glance at your reflection in the nearby puddle. The image staring back at you is a disheveled mess: hair tousled, face bruised and bloodied, jeans stained with grime and blood, and a jacket barely concealing it all.

“Not my best look,” you bite your lip. “But it’ll have to do.”

With a sigh, you step into the flower shop. The bell above the door jingles softly, and the warm, floral scent is a welcome relief from the warehouse’s stench.

The florist looks up from behind the counter with a curious glance. His eyes narrow slightly as he takes in your disheveled appearance but he doesn’t seem particularly fazed.

In Gotham, a bloodied teenager is probably just another Wednesday.

“Evening,” the florist says, his voice carrying the neutrality of someone accustomed to the oddities of city life. “What can I do for you?”

You give a quick nod, trying to keep your tone casual despite the blood still seeping through your shirt. “Need something nice. Simple. No need for anything flashy.”

The florist nods and starts arranging a bouquet of flowers. You drift over to a corner and find yourself looking at some daisies, their bright, cheerful colors a stark contrast to your current state.

“Spidey? How’s it going?” 

“Alright,” you shrug, though she can’t see it. “Can I get a rundown on my vitals again?”

Morgan’s voice hums and there’s the sound of clicking keys. “Vitals are stable. The cut is slowly healing, but you’ll need to properly bandage and get some of that stitched later Happy to say you're not going to die bleeding out.” 

She pauses, and then adds, “You’ve got a couple of broken ribs though.”

You blink in surprise and pat at your sides, feeling nothing. “Really? Guess that’s my pain tolerance working overtime. Didn’t even notice.”

“Please tell me you’re getting that treated first,” Morgan says, a hint of concern in her voice.

“Nope,” you reply, moving to pay for the flowers. “Already running late. Mom will kill me if she finds out.”

Morgan’s voice is laced with skepticism. “She’s going to find out anyway.”

You sigh, trying to ignore the twinge in your side. “I’ll just say it was a mugging.”

“Do you really think she’ll believe that?” Morgan asks, her tone dry.

You let out a small, pained chuckle. “In Gotham, maybe. But realistically…no. I’m just hoping to buy myself a little time before it all catches up to me.”

With the bouquet in hand, you head back out into the night. You tuck the flowers into your free pocket and swing off into the darkness. As you soar through the city, you reach for your earpiece and say a quick, “Goodnight, Morgz,” before shoving it into the pocket of your jeans.

Just as you near the bridge, your phone rings. You glance at the screen and curse under your breath—Selina’s calling, and from the look of it, she’s been trying to reach you multiple times over the past hour.

Yeah, you’re fucked.

You answer the call, forcing a casual tone. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

Selina’s voice comes through, clearly agitated. You can hear her huffing as she closes the apartment door, the background noise of a car engine rumbling outside. “Where the hell are you? I’ve been waiting forever. We’re all set to head out.”

You quickly scan the streets below as you swing past, trying to gauge your location. “Uh, I’m on 2nd Broadway… actually, make that 3rd Broadway. And… 4th of Broadway! I’ll be there in… twenty minutes tops. Almost there, Mom!”

There’s a pause.

“... Are you swinging?”

“Nope,” you lie smoothly, narrowly dodging a pigeon that flaps angrily past your face. “Just a bit of a detour. You know how it is.”

“Honey. I can hear the wind. Are you really swinging around? It’s a school night. You know the rules—”

You wince, knowing you’ve been caught. “Just… had a few things to take care of. I’m on my way. Promise. Actually, why don’t I meet you at Wayne Manor instead? I’m near the bridge. Ya know, the one by the docks.”

There’s another pause on her end. 

“Why are you near the docks?!”

You avoid the question, trying to keep the conversation moving. “Long story. Look, I’m running late. Can we just meet at Wayne Manor? I’ll explain everything after dinner.”

Selina’s frustration doesn’t ease, but she sighs. “Fine. Wayne Manor it is. But don’t think for a second you’re off the hook, young lady.”

You nod, even though she can’t see it. “Understood. See you soon. Love you, Mom!”

༻⊰───⋅

BEEP.

Selina scowls as she ends the call and heads down to meet Alfred. The gritty streets of Gotham greet her, the cacophony of sirens and street chatter providing a harsh backdrop to her mood.

Alfred, noticing her irritated state, opens the door for her with a raised eyebrow. "Good to see you Miss Kyle. May I ask where the young miss is?"

Selina forces a smile, trying to mask her frustration. “She’s… handling something that came up last minute. She’ll meet us at the manor.”

"Very well. I trust she’ll be punctual." Alfred says, a hint of concern in his eyes, but he says nothing more. He closes the door behind her as she slips into the car, adjusting her coat and glancing at her reflection in the rearview mirror.

The engine starts, the low hum blending with the city’s background noise. As the vehicle pulls away, Selina leans back against the cool leather seat, her fingers drumming lightly on the armrest, her mind already racing through the conversation she knows is coming.

You were dead meat.

༻⊰───⋅

After nearly an hour of high-speed swings through Gotham, you finally touch down in a secluded area near Wayne Manor. You're breathless and disheveled, your earlier efforts to look presentable having fallen short. You quickly scan the area, making sure the security cameras don’t catch your arrival.

Taking a moment to compose yourself, you adjust your clothes and press the doorbell. The chime rings through the grand entrance. You glance at your phone and wince—you're an hour and thirty minutes late.

The swinging took longer than expected, and to make matters worse, you had to intervene when this ginger reporter was being robbed. You couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Now, as you wait by the gate, you hear footsteps approaching from inside. The door swings open to reveal Alfred, who freezes for a moment, his eyes widening at the sight of you—bruised, bloodied, and clearly worse for wear. You lean against the gate, your fingers curling around the metal.

“H—Hey, Al.”

“Goodness me!” Alfred exclaims, hurrying over to the gate and pulling it open wide.  He rushes over, opening the gate wider and pulling you inside with a practiced ease. His gaze sweeps over your injuries, concern etched deeply into his features. “Miss Kyle, you’re in quite a state!”

You manage a tired smile, carefully pulling the bouquet from your jacket. It’s in rough shape—torn petals, crushed blooms, and snapped stems. It looks like it’s on the verge of dying.

“Sorry I’m late,” you say, wincing as you hold up the sad arrangement. “These… are for you. I, uh, ran all the way here. I hope I’m not too late for dinner.”

Alfred takes the flowers with a gentle smile, his concern momentarily overshadowed by a touch of warmth. “Thank you, Miss Kyle. However, I assure you it’s fine. The others have already started eating. They won’t mind if you—”

“It’s fine! This is just…,” you pause, pursing your lips as you scramble for a plausible excuse. You force a smile, shaking your head and pulling your jacket hood further over your face to hide the swelling bruise around one of your eyes. “Hah, you know how Gotham can be.”

Alfred gives you a sympathetic glance but says nothing more. “Very well. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the dining room.”

He guides you through the grand hallways, your footsteps echoing in the vast space and mingling with the soft murmur of conversation. As you reach the dining room, the door swings open, revealing a table set with care and already abuzz with activity. Selina, Bruce, and the others are seated, their animated conversations abruptly halting as they turn to look at you.

The room falls into a stunned silence, every gaze drawn to your disheveled, bloodied appearance.

Selina’s eyes narrow into slits, her irritation barely concealed behind a strained, tight-lipped smile. Bruce’s complexion drains to an ashen hue, his eyes are wide as saucers, looking like he’s about to pass out from shock. He casts Selina a panicked glance, which she meets with a weary sigh, her hands momentarily covering her face as if trying to shield herself from the mess. She looks utterly drained.

You attempt a casual wave, but it comes off as weak and awkward. Blood drips from your bruised knuckles, each drop splattering with a muted plop onto the polished floor. “Hey, everyone. Sorry, I’m late.”

Jason’s eyes flare with a dangerous glint of green as he barks, “What the fuck happened, kid?”

Next to him, Cassandra’s face is blank. Her fingers fidget with her utensils as she shifts her gaze rapidly between you and Selina, trying to piece together the fractured narrative from your battered appearance and Selina’s body language.

Bruce, who had been quietly observing, stands up and approaches you with slow, measured steps.

“You’re hurt,” he says, his voice a deep, resonant murmur. His hands, surprisingly gentle for their strength, settle on your shoulders. His eyes, usually as inscrutable as the dark depths of a stormy sea, now soften with the tenderness of a lighthouse guiding you through a night. “What happened, kiddo?”

There’s a strange, twisting sensation in your gut, flaring just beneath your ribs. A lump rises in your throat, and despite your best efforts to stay composed, your eyes begin to well up.

“I—” you begin, but the words falter. Your gaze drifts across the room and locks onto Damian’s eyes. They’re like emeralds, gleaming with a ferocity that seems to pierce through the walls you’ve built. Though he remains silent, his piercing look conveys a thousand unspoken thoughts and emotions.

A wave of shame is crashing into you, pushing your words back down. “Just… a rough night. Got into a fight.” 

Bruce’s eyes narrow, and a wave of seething anger ripples through him. You try to ignore it. 

“And who was this?” he demands, his voice a controlled, simmering growl.

“It’s okay. It ended up alright,” you try to shrug it off, forcing a casual tone. “Really, it’s not as bad as it looks. Just a run-in with some rando on the street.”

Everyone’s reactions vary, but it’s the look in Selina’s eyes that strikes you the hardest. Selina’s weary gaze peeks out from behind her hands, and the sight makes your face crumple.

“Pull off your hood,” Selina commands, icy and devoid of warmth. As she straightens in her chair, her blood-red nails dig into the mahogany table, turning her knuckles as pale as frost.

You keep your gaze fixed on the polished marble floor, scuffing the dried mud across its pristine surface. The silence in the room grows heavier with each passing second.

“Take off the damn hood and show me your face!”

Scowling and clenching your jaw, you yank the hood off. As it falls away, the full extent of your injuries is laid bare. Selina’s eyes widen as they take in the black eye, the bruises, and the cuts that mar your face. Her shock quickly morphs into a deepening scowl, her lips trembling as she fights to control her rising anger.

Everyone waiting for the outburst that is sure to follow.

Instead, Selina’s hands fly to cover her face, and she looks as though she might fall apart at any moment.

Bruce stares at you with something akin to horror.

Before anyone can react further, Damian abruptly stands, his chair scraping against the floor. Without a word, he strides over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you out of the room. 

His muttered words are barely audible, “I’ll take care of their injuries.”

Bruce moves back to Selina’s side, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulder as he tries to offer comfort. 

You can hear his soft, reassuring whisper as you walk away, “You can stay for the night. It’s too late to head out now. Give her some time.”

Selina, her face still pale and troubled, nods gratefully, her gaze tracking Damian as he helps you toward the manor’s second floor.

Damian ushers you into his room, the door closing behind you with a decisive click. He motions to the bed, and you sink onto it with a heavy sigh, the weight of the day dragging at your limbs.

You watch Damian retreat to the bathroom, your gaze lingering on the raw, bloodied skin of your knuckles, tinged with a gnawing sense of guilt.

Moments later, he returns with a first aid kit in hand. He kneels before you, reaching out to tug off your jacket, but you quickly shake your head, not wanting him to discover the suit beneath.

“I’m going to change in the bathroom,” you rasp. Damian silently nods, moving to his closet and pulling out one of his cotton shirts and boxers. He hands them to you with a resigned sigh and leans against the wall beside the bathroom door, giving you the privacy you need.

You take the clothes from Damian and head to the bathroom. As you push open the door, the dim light casts long shadows across the tiled floor. You deliberately avoid meeting your reflection in the mirror, not wanting to confront the full extent of the mess you’re in.

Once inside, you drop Damian’s shirt and boxers onto the floor, followed by your jacket, shirt, and pants. The fabric makes a soft rustling sound as it lands. With a deep, steadying breath, you begin peeling off your suit, slow and painstaking.

As the suit peels away from your skin, the blood and sweat that have soaked into it reveal the severity of your injuries. You wince as the cut on your side comes fully into view, a raw, angry red line that stretches from just below your rib cage to the middle of your side. It looks even worse up close—jagged and still oozing a bit despite the healing process.

You quickly change into Damian’s boxers, opting to keep the shirt off for now. You carefully bundle your suit and hide it under your jacket and pants, folding it as neatly as you can manage. With a deep breath, you step back into the room.

Damian’s eyes narrow as he assesses the cut on your side, now reduced to a four-inch scar due to your enhanced healing abilities. His gaze is hard, and you can almost see the weight of the lecture that would have come if he’d seen the injury in its original, more severe state. 

“Sit down,” Damian finally speaks, his voice firm. He begins to open the first aid kit, movements slow. You drop your ruined clothes in a far corner and plop back down on his bed, rubbing your hands together nervously.

A beat passes as Damian finishes cleaning the wound and reaches for the anesthesia, preparing to start stitching you up. You shake your head and push his hand away. “I can take it.”

“No,” Damian scowls and continues his work. He applies the anesthesia despite your protests, injecting it around the wound to numb the area. The needle pierces your skin with a sharp sting, followed by a dull, throbbing sensation as the anesthetic begins to take effect.

He sets the syringe aside and picks up a pair of sterilized tweezers and needle and thread. You watch as he carefully makes the first stitch, his hands steady and precise. The thread pulls tight, closing the wound with a series of tight, even stitches.

His long lashes flutter over his hooded eyes with each focused blink, his emerald gaze intense and filled with concern. The warm ambient light of the room casts a gentle glow on his deep tan skin, accentuating the chiseled contours of his face in a soft, almost ethereal light.

The beam of light highlights the light almost invisible scar that stretches from his cheekbone to his crooked nose, tracing the elegant curve of his cheekbone and the strong, defined line of his jaw. Your gaze drifts to his full lips, noting the perfect cupid’s bow of his upper lip.

His hair is meticulously styled, with longer strands on top falling in inky, sleek waves across his forehead, remnants of gel catching the light. Damian’s thick, well-kept hair frames his face like brush strokes, adding to his strikingly handsome appearance.

Unable to hold yourself back, you raise a hand to cup his cheek. Damian hums, a low, soothing sound that rumbles in his chest. He keeps his eyes focused on your wound but tilts his head slightly to press a soft, tender kiss to your wrist.

With the stitches complete, Damian shifts his attention to bandaging the wound. He secures the bandage, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary as he smooths out the edges. Finally, he raises his head and meets your gaze, eyes conveying everything he can’t say aloud.

Exhausted and overwhelmed, you slump into Damian’s embrace, dropping your hands onto his shoulders. He responds instinctively, taking your hands in his. Large, calloused fingers gently lift yours, pressing a tender kiss to each of them before moving to softly kiss your bruised knuckles.

With a whisper of your name, Damian draws your hands over his shoulders. You smile, sinking deeper into his embrace, arms draped over his strong back. Damian holds you close, lifting you off the bed as he pulls you into a hug. His arms wound up around your waist, pulling you tighter against him.

“You know, trying to keep secrets from me is pointless,” Damian murmurs, a thinly veiled threat in his words peppering kisses up the side of your neck. “I am the son of the greatest detective in the world. I will find out what happened.”

You chuckle softly, feeling the tension ease a bit. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just let me hold you, you insufferable know-it-all.”

Damian’s grip tightens slightly. His forehead rests against yours, hearts swimming in his emerald eyes. “You’re lucky I tolerate your nonsense. But seriously, you need to start talking.”

“Maybe later,” you reply, smiling against his shoulder. “Right now, I just need you.”

༻⊰───⋅

An hour later, it’s already 1 AM, but you and Damian are still awake, watching a show on his television. You’re curled up together on his bed, the flickering light from the screen painting the room in shifting hues of blue and gray, casting gentle shadows that dance across the walls.

You rest your head against Damian’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close. Despite the late hour, the warmth and comfort of his embrace keep you from drifting off.

“This show is surprisingly bearable,” Damian murmurs.

You smile, nuzzling closer. “Told you it was worth a watch. Thanks for staying up with me.”

Damian’s fingers gently stroke your hair, each touch a soothing rhythm against your scalp. “Of course I’d do it, even if it means enduring your rather questionable taste in television.”

You scoff, pretending to be wounded. “Questionable taste? This show is a gem. You just don’t want to admit I’ve expanded your horizons.”

Damian raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes as he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Expanded my horizons? More like subjected me to a marathon of pedestrian entertainment.”

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite his words. The episode continues, the soft hum of the TV blending with the comforting rhythm of Damian’s breathing. The earlier tension and worry seem to dissolve into the background, replaced by a quiet intimacy.

Damian’s hand moves slowly, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. His thumb begins to trace gentle, deliberate patterns on your back. You shiver slightly at the unexpected sensation, a delicate ripple of warmth spreading through you. His touch is soft yet firm, spelling out something with careful precision.

Though you don’t fully grasp the intent behind his touch, Damian’s fingers trace a delicate script across your skin, inscribing the words of Talia’s favorite Arabic love poem onto your back.

“My life shall be sacrificed for her beauty,” his thumb whispers across your skin, “my blood shall be spilled freely for her, and though I burn for her painfully, like a candle, none of my days shall ever be free of this pain. Let me love, oh my God, love for love’s sake, and make my love a hundred times as great as it was and is.”

The gentle pressure of his touch, the rhythmic way his thumb moves, slowly eases you into sleep. As each verse of the poem is imprinted on your skin, you find yourself drifting off, nestled against his chest. Damian tenderly presses his lips to your temple, wishing you sweet dreams.

༻⊰───⋅

Thursday, 3:02 AM - Damian's Room, Wayne Manor.

Dick moves stealthily down the moonlit hallway, his footsteps muffled against the plush carpet. He reaches Damian’s door and pushes it open with a gentle nudge. Despite his careful approach, the old hinges protest with a loud, protesting creak, shattering the quiet of the night and immediately stirring Damian from his sleep.

The sudden noise jolts Damian awake, his reflexes kicking in. His eyes snap open, and in a heartbeat, his muscles tense as he instinctively tightens his protective embrace around you. The world outside fades as his focus zeroes in on the intruder.

Damian’s gaze narrows into a steely glare as he locks onto Dick. In a seamless, fluid motion, he throws aside the blankets and reaches beneath the bed, his hand closing around the hilt of a gleaming katana.

Without hesitation, he draws the blade with a swift, practiced flick, sending the katana arcing through the air toward Dick. 

SHINK!

Dick stumbles back, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. The katana thuds harmlessly into the wall beside him, its sharp edge embedded in the wood just inches from his head. 

"Such a dramatic wake-up call… Good morning to you too," Dick grins, clearly used to this routine. “Alright. I know it’s late, but Selina is still up. I think she wants to talk to Y/N.”

Damian’s snarl is a low, dangerous rumble. “If you wake her, I will cut your hands off.”

Dick raises an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by the threat. “Come on, baby bird. It’s not that big of a deal. Just let her know she’s needed.”

Damian’s eyes remain locked on Dick, a burning intensity that could have melted steel. Yet, after a long, tense moment, he grudgingly nods, the anger in his posture easing ever so slightly. With careful precision, he unwinds himself from the cocoon of blankets that envelops you, making sure not to jostle you awake.

!!!

But as Damian shifts, your senses stir, your eyes fluttering open to the dim light of the room. Your hand moves instinctively, reaching out to grasp Damian’s wrist, your fingers curling around him with a surprising strength. The sudden contact startles Damian, and he pauses, his gaze softening as he looks down at you.

Confusion and concern flash across your face as you murmur, “Dames?”

He pauses, his gaze softening as he looks down at you, his eyes reflecting a tender regret. “It’s okay. I apologize for waking you, but Miss Kyle is calling for you.”

You tense immediately, and Damian feels a pang of guilt unfurl in his gut for disrupting your rest.

You sigh softly and rise slowly, wincing slightly as though the wound still bothers you. Although your injury has healed, you  keep up the act, unwilling to make it too obvious that you’re fine. You know you’re on thin ice, and the last thing you want is to make things more suspicious.

Damian instinctively moves to support you, his hand steadying your back with a reassuring touch as you rise. Dick, lingering at the doorway, casts an apologetic glance your way.

Damian helps you to your feet, his touch steady and reassuring. He retrieves his soccer jacket from a nearby chair and drapes it around your shoulders with a gentle, almost reverent touch. The jacket, well-worn and carrying the faint scent of his cologne, envelops you in its soft, reassuring warmth. 

As you and Damian approach the door to his room, you hesitate and turn to him.

“I think I need to handle this alone,” you say quietly. “Can you wait here?”

Damian's eyes narrow slightly, and he hesitates, his protective instincts flaring.

“Are you sure?” he asks, running a hand up your back.

You give him a reassuring smile. “Yes, it’s better this way. I’ll be fine.”

Damian’s expression softens reluctantly. “Alright. I will be right here if you need me, beloved.”

You watch as Damian retreats to his room, his hand sliding around the katana lodged in the doorframe. With a smooth, deliberate motion, he withdraws the blade, the metal glinting momentarily before the door closes softly behind him. Dick, meanwhile, falls into step beside you and guides you down the corridor. His presence is steady and reassuring, a calming force in the tense atmosphere.

As you walk, Dick leans in slightly, his voice a low murmur. “Your mom’s been on edge all night. I’m… not sure what’s going on, but she made it clear she wanted to talk to you immediately.”

You nod, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach. “I figured as much,” you reply, trying to keep your tone steady.

Dick’s expression turns serious, but a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You really gave us a scare,” he says, his tone softening. “Just remember, as a future Mrs. Wayne, we’ve got your back, no matter what.”

You chuckle softly, the warmth of his words offering a small measure of comfort. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself for the conversation ahead as you reach the door to Selina’s room.

You turn the knob and push the door open.

Tall windows, framed by heavy drapes, stand slightly ajar, allowing the Gotham breeze to drift through the room. The curtains flutter rhythmically, whispering softly against the glass panes. Selina stands by the window, her silhouette etched sharply against the city’s glittering skyline. Her back is to you, tense and rod-straight.

The door clicks shut behind you, and she turns her head slightly, her gaze meeting yours with a cool, unreadable intensity.

"Are you going to start talking, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?”

“I was just—” you stammer, struggling to find the right words. “I passed by, okay? I saw the situation and I had to intervene—”

Selina cuts you off with a sharp twist of her head. “I have eyes. I know what happened. I was informed about a tech shipment—an underground tech shipment by the docks. It was infiltrated. They found all the men webbed. Webbed. To the walls and floors. Don’t lie to me, honey.”

You sigh, the weight of the truth settling heavily on your shoulders. “Yeah. Okay,” you admit, your voice trembling despite your efforts to stay composed. “It… was planned.”

Selina’s eyes narrow dangerously as she strides towards you, heels clicking sharply against the floors. Her silhouette, framed by the soft, muted glow of the city lights filtering through the window, looms larger than life.

“Did you have a single clue as to whose men those were?” she demands, her voice slicing through the silence like a whip crack.

“I knew,” you say quietly, “I knew they were connected to Black Mask. It was a tip-off, and I thought if I could just—”

“You thought? You thought what? That you could handle it alone?” Selina’s eyes flash. “This isn’t some playground for you to experiment with your powers. You’re dealing with dangerous people—people who won’t hesitate to kill. And if you get yourself hurt—or worse—what good are you to anyone?”

You lower your eyes, feeling the sting of her words as if each one were a reprimand meant to cut deeper. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Sorry isn’t going to undo this mess!” she snaps, her hands gripping the edge of a table.

A hand tangles itself into her hair, strands of hair failing over her gaze. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put us through? What you’ve risked by acting recklessly? I’m not just scolding you because I’m angry. I’m scared. You’re my responsibility”

Your anger surges, and you shout, “I know, Mom! I know!” The words escape before you can stop them.

Selina’s expression shifts from anger to hurt, her eyes momentarily softening before hardening again. “Don’t take that tone with me."

“Excuse me?” you snap, stepping closer. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever lost something? Every time I bring up my mother, you just give me the bare minimum! I was going to start digging eventually.”

Selina’s eyes widen, a mix of hurt and frustration flashing across her face. “You think I’m holding back information from you? I’m trying to protect you! When your mother died, I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone else I cared about get hurt."

“We’re so past that! I’m already knee-deep in this world,” you say desperately, your voice rising. “Mom, look at me! Just look! I have Spider DNA in my veins. My boyfriend is a vigilante. I’ve faced kidnappings and attempts on my life ever since I was born! You can’t keep treating me like a child who needs to be sheltered from reality.”

“I raised you! ” Selina screams, raw and primal, the words tearing from her throat with a force that leaves you momentarily stunned. “I gave up everything to keep you safe, to try and shield you from the worst parts of this life because I couldn’t bear to lose you too!” 

Her voice shatters mid-sentence, the tears slipping from her eyes despite her best efforts to hold them back. But she doesn’t stop, pushing through, her words tumbling out in a frantic, desperate rush. “Every time you put yourself at risk, it’s like ripping open a wound that never heals! Don’t you get that? I can’t—I won’t—lose you, too!”

The raw emotion in her voice shatters your anger, melting it away like ice under a warm sun. You step forward, your movements gentle as you grab onto her shoulders, guiding her down into a chair. 

“I know, Ma,” you murmur, your voice softening as you try to soothe her. “I know it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m sorry.”

Selina breathes heavily, her anger still simmering just beneath the surface. “I know. I know you’ve been through so much. It’s just—I don’t want you to be a target for Black Mask. He’s a fucking monster, and I didn’t want you to be in his crosshairs.”

“I’m already in his crosshairs,” you whisper, bending down and reaching into your sock, where you’ve hidden the flash drive containing the information you retrieved from the warehouse. You had tucked it in earlier while changing in the bathroom.

“This,” you continue, holding up the small device, “is information on all his future activities. This was the mission I had earlier.”

Selina’s eyes widen in alarm, her fear quickly reigniting into fury. “Have you put no thought into the rules I set? Putting yourself in that kind of danger—” 

“Danger I’m already in,” you cut her off. “Danger I’m about to face.”

"Y/N," Selina hisses out in warning, her eyes flashing dangerously, fangs glinting in the moonlight like a cornered cat.

“What? You think you can stop me?” you scowl as she stands. “I’m done playing by your rules. And if you get in my way, I won’t hesitate to take you down.”

Selina’s eyes narrow, and a scornful smile twists on her lips.

"Prove it."

“What?” you manage to choke out.

Without a word, she launches herself toward you. Her foot whips out in a sharp, hard kick, sending you reeling backward. You hit the small balcony with a heavy thud, the harsh chill of the metal biting into your skin.

A pained grunt escapes you as you scramble to regain your footing, the cold air wrapping around you like a bitter embrace. 

"Prove it, honey," Selina taunts, her voice dripping with contempt as she saunters toward you. She draws her claws with a slow, deliberate motion, the metal gleaming ominously in the dim light. “Show me you’ve got some fight.”

Before you can fully recover, Selina is on you again. You barely evade her claws, landing heavily on the cold metal railings. The chill bites into your feet, but you push off the railing with a powerful leap, ready to re-engage.

Selina's leg sweeps toward you with brutal intent, aiming to knock you off balance. Reacting quickly, you shoot a web to the railing, swinging yourself back into position and avoiding her strike.

You retaliate with a hard kick to her chest. The impact sends Selina sprawling, her body slamming into the ground. She rolls to absorb the blow, springing back up.

Her eyes flash with anger as she leaps from the balcony’s ledge, executing a high-spinning kick. You twist in mid-air, grabbing the edge of the balcony to dodge her attack and pulling yourself back onto solid ground.

“If you try to stop me, if you try to control me, you’ll only push me further away,” you shout, breath coming in sharp bursts. “And I promise, I’ll fight back with everything I’ve got.”

"Then fight!" 

As she swings at you again, you snatch her wrist, twisting it with a sharp, decisive motion. With a sudden push, you force her own claws against her, the cold metal slicing into her shoulder.

Selina hisses in pain, her body recoiling as she shoves you away. The razor edges of her claws carve a deep, angry line across her shoulder, a vivid stripe of crimson blooming against her skin and staining her outfit.

The sight of it catches you off guard, a sharp pang of guilt gripping you as her pain registers. You stand frozen, eyes locked on the streaks of red that disrupt the perfection of her skin. 

“Mom—” your throat tightens. “I’m so—”

Selina starts to smile, a small, almost reluctant grin that slowly grows wider. The sight is so unexpected that it momentarily takes you aback. Then, much to your surprise, she begins to laugh—a rich, genuine sound filled with a mix of relief, amusement, and something deeper you can’t quite place.

“You think this is funny?!” you exclaim, bewildered and on the verge of anger.

Selina looks at you with a bitter smile, her laughter fading. She clutches her bleeding shoulder, her expression softening as she lets out a long sigh.

“You really are my daughter,” she murmurs.

You slowly ease from your defensive stance, confusion furrowing your brows.

“Alright, fine. Point proven,” she continues, voice gentler now. “Trying to cage you would only make you fight harder to claw your way out. Literally. I should know better than anyone how that feels.”

“O… kay?” you mutter, still grappling with the sudden shift in her demeanor. “So, I guess we’ve proven my point. What now?”

“Now,” she says slowly, “we talk. Like sane adults. No more clawing each other’s faces off.”

༻⊰───⋅

An hour later, both of you sit on the edge of the bed, cradling cups of warm jasmine tea from the tea set provided in your room—because, of course, each guest room in the Wayne Manor has one.

The steam rises gently from the cups, warming your fingers and offering a soothing contrast to the cool air. Selina sits across from you, her shoulder wrapped in bandages.

As you sit on the edge of the bed, you fill Selina in on everything that’s happened: the mugging with Morgan, the shooting when you saved her, and the whole "guy in the chair" thing. You’re honest about all the other stuff and the support you’ve received, but you leave out the fact that Tony Stark knows your secret identity, keeping that bit to yourself for now.

Selina stares at her cup of tea, her eyes wide with disbelief. The steady ticking of a clock fills the room, punctuating the silence as she processes what you've just shared.

“So, you’ve been pulling all the strings?” she asks. "Orchestrating all of this?"

You lick your lips, choosing your words carefully. Orchestrating is a strong word. More like everything is falling into place. But that does sound better.

“Something like that,” you say, nodding.

Selina blinks, taking a slow, contemplative sip of her tea. “Trying to rein you in would be a lost cause at this point,” she says, setting her cup down. “So, what exactly is the plan from here?”

You place your cup back onto its saucer with a soft clink, the porcelain’s gentle chime briefly breaking the quiet. “I need to dig deeper into Black Mask’s operations. With Morgan’s help, I’ve got the tech and the intel, but there’s still a lot we don’t know.”

Selina nods, tracing a finger along the rim of her cup, her gaze distant. “Batman will notice. The moment you step out into the city proper, you’re going to be a target. And once you’re on his radar, a contingency plan will be set.”

You stay silent, fiddling with your fingers.

Selina’s gaze hardens. “And that’s what worries me. Bruce is just a man—no powers, no special DNA. But if he sets his mind to something, he can take anyone down. I don’t want you caught in that crossfire.”

You open your mouth, but Selina cuts you off.

“That’s why I’ve had my own contingency plan in case Gotham ever fell apart.”

You glance at her, a thread of dread weaving itself into your thoughts. “Contingency plan?”

Selina nods, her tone heavy. “When I first took you in, my plan was to leave Gotham as soon as possible. But then the Catwoman thing happened, and I got… sentimental. I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Still, I made sure we had a backup.”

“Backup? What do you mean?”

Selina’s expression softens slightly. “I bought an apartment in Metropolis. It was supposed to be a safehouse—somewhere to go if things got too dangerous here. I even set up fake identities for us, just in case we needed to disappear fast.”

“Metropolis?” you ask, your disbelief coming through with a half-smile. “Seriously?”

Selina winces, her expression sours. “Yes, it was meant to be a last resort. If things ever got too out of control, or if our secrets got out, it was our escape plan. I didn’t want us to be hunted down. I wanted us to have a safe place to go.” 

She cracks her knuckles, releasing some of the tension in her hands.

“It’s still an option if things get too messy. But for now, I’ll help you as much as I can here."

༻⊰───⋅

Damian walks up the stairs, his steps muted against the polished wood. In his hand, he clutches a thick blanket he’s taken from the storeroom. The absence of your presence has made his room feel uncomfortably cold, and he refuses to go back to sleep without you there.

As he nears the guest room where you and Selina are deep in conversation, he slows his pace, the soft hum of your voices drifting through the slightly ajar door. 

He knows he should respect your privacy—a lesson he’s learned the hard way after being caught tailing you during patrols more than once. But his curiosity tugs at him. 

He lingers outside the room, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, straining to catch snippets of the conversation drifting through the slightly ajar door.

“That’s why I’ve had my own contingency plan in case Gotham ever fell apart.”

The voices are muffled, but Damian can detect the guilt in Selina’s tone.

“Contingency plan?”

There was a pause.

“When I first took you in, my plan was to leave Gotham as soon as possible. But then the Catwoman thing happened, and I got… sentimental. I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Still, I made sure we had a backup.”

“Backup? What do you mean?”

“I bought an apartment in Metropolis. It was supposed to be a safehouse—somewhere to go if things got too dangerous here. I even set up fake identities for us, just in case we needed to disappear fast.”

Damian freezes.

"Metropolis? Really?"

Selina’s voice carries a note of sorrow. “Yes, it was meant to be a last resort. If things ever got too out of control, or if our secrets got out, it was our escape plan. I didn’t want us to be hunted down. I wanted us to have a safe place to go.” 

Damian remains frozen in place.

Hunt? Who was hunting you down that made Selina think it was necessary to move rather than seek help from his father? Did she not trust Batman's abilities? Did she not trust his?

His grip on the blanket tightens until his knuckles turn white, the rough fabric digging into his palms like a searing brand. A bitter, acrid taste rises in his throat, mingling with the bile of frustration and helplessness.

Had he not proven his devotion enough? Each time he threw himself into the fray, each time he fought with everything he had, did she still doubt his ability to protect you? His every act of defiance, every sacrifice, should have been proof—shouldn’t it? 

Did she think that running away was the answer? Did she believe that abandoning Gotham and leaving him and Bruce out of the fight was a better choice? Her secretive plans, her carefully crafted illusions of safety, were they really a solution?

Panic starts to claw at him, twisting his insides into a tight knot. Or maybe it was because of him? 

Gods, he knew you were too good for him, but was he so inadequate that she thought hiding you away was the only option? The thoughts gnaw at him like ravenous insects, feasting on his insecurities. He can almost feel the raw, hot sting of failure as it eats away at him from within. 

He remembers the first day he was left with Bruce, the way his own father looked at him, the way his brothers looked at him—like something about him was inherently wrong. 

He was the outsider, the boy who had to claw and tear and rip his way into their world, proving his worth to a family he barely understood, a family that barely understood him.

Every mistake he made, every bout of uncontrollable rage, felt like blood on his hands—dark, sticky, and impossible to wash away. Another mark on his name. 

And now, Selina’s confession feels like another blow to his fragile sense of self-worth. If even she doesn’t trust him, if even she thinks he’s not enough to protect you, what does that say about him?

His legs grow numb, his head spins with disorientation. The edges of his vision blur, and each breath comes in shallow, frantic bursts. He stumbles forward, driven by an overwhelming need to escape. His body moves on its own, carrying him towards his room.

Was he what Selina was protecting you from?

The thought strikes him like a physical blow, leaving him reeling. The blood, the violence, the cold efficiency with which he was taught to kill—it all comes rushing back. Damian was trained to be an assassin, raised by the League of Shadows to be a weapon, a tool of destruction.

He feels numb as he stumbles into his room, the familiar surroundings doing little to comfort him. He collapses onto the floor, his legs giving way as he sinks to his knees. Clutching the blanket to his chest, he tries to draw some warmth from its fabric, but it feels like an inadequate shield against the cold, hollow emptiness that gnaws at him from within.

The voices of doubt and self-loathing grow louder, echoing in his mind. Damian doesn't know how long he's been sitting on the floor, trying to control his breathing. Time seems to blur, each second stretching into an eternity. His thoughts spiral, a maelstrom of fear and insecurity, until he hears the soft creak of the door opening.

You stumble in, and he freezes.

Your eyes widen as you take in his disheveled state, the blanket clutched tightly in his hands, his face pale and eyes wide with panic. You rush to his side, dropping to your knees beside him.

"Dames," you whisper. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He tries to speak, but the words catch in his throat. Instead, he shakes his head, unable to meet your gaze. He doesn't deserve to.

You hush gently, raising your hands to his face. "Can I touch you? You’re having a panic attack, baby."

He nods, his breath still coming in shallow gasps. Your hands are warm and steady as you cup his face, your thumbs brushing lightly against his cheeks.

"Look at me," you murmur softly. "Focus on me. Breathe with me."

He struggles to follow your instructions, his eyes locking onto yours. You take a deep breath in, exaggerating the motion, and slowly exhale. He tries to mimic you, his breaths hitching but gradually evening out.

"That's it," you encourage. "In and out, nice and slow. You're doing great."

Damian's grip on the blanket loosens slightly as he continues to focus on your breathing, finding a semblance of calm in the steady rhythm. Your presence anchors him, drawing him away from the chaotic storm in his mind.

"You’re safe," you whisper. "I’m here with you. Just keep breathing."

Gradually, the tension in his body begins to ease. He leans into your touch, his forehead resting against yours. The panic that had gripped him so fiercely started to ebb away, replaced by a fragile sense of security.

He sits there, the silence heavy around him, before his voice breaks through it, rough and raw. "Are you scared of me?" he asks.

The question hangs in the air. He doesn’t mention what he overheard, but the question reveals the depth of his doubt.

You gently brush a strand of hair from his face, your eyes soft with understanding. "Scared of you? Damian, I’m not scared of you."

He clenches his fists, the blanket still wrapped around his hands. "I… I can’t seem to do anything right. It’s like I’m always falling short."

"You’re not falling short," you reassure him softly. "You’re human, and you’re trying your best."

You lean in, your lips pressing against his in a tender, reassuring kiss. As you pull back, your eyes are filled with a deep sorrow.

"Can I ask what brought this on?" you whisper.

Damian takes a deep breath, his gaze shifting to the floor as he gathers his thoughts.

“I overheard part of a conversation between you and Selina,” Damian begins, his voice sharp and dripping with bitter resentment. “She spoke of a contingency plan involving an apartment in Metropolis and expressed concerns about someone hunting you down. If… If she felt the need to protect you from something by leaving, does that mean that I’m not enough? That I’m not capable of keeping you safe?”

His words come out with an edge. He meets your gaze with eyes darkened by hurt and anger. “I wanted to be someone you could rely on, someone who could safeguard you, not merely another liability. But now it seems I’m just… inadequate. As if my dedication and efforts amount to nothing.”

You start to speak, but Damian interrupts. “Who’s hunting you down? What’s going on? Beloved, I’ve let you into my life—please, let me into yours.”

“I know, baby,” you say softly, running a hand through your tousled hair as you try to gather your thoughts. “Alright, okay, I need to tell you about something important. It’s about the spider vigilante, alright? There’s something you need to understand.”

“Again with this?” Damian scoffs, his hurt evident as he starts to rise from the floor. The movement makes you panic, and you grab his arm, pulling him back down.

“Nonono, wait,” you say urgently, trying to steady your voice. “Forget that for now. There’s something else I need to talk about—something personal. It’s about me, and I need you to listen.”

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “Okay. There’s a lot more going on than you realize. I’m investigating Black Mask. He’s got some operation threatening Gotham, and it’s connected to everything that’s been happening lately. I’m trying to figure out what he’s up to, and…”

You pause, struggling to find the right words. “And I might have something to do with that vigilante spider you’ve seen around.”

Damian’s eyes widen in surprise, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. He stands there, his mind racing as he pieces together the implications of your confession.

The increased absences, the unexplained injuries—suddenly, everything starts to make sense. He can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner. How did he not connect the dots? The vigilance, the secrecy—it all makes sense now.

You’re the one being hunted.

Brows threaded together, Damian steps closer, taking your hands in his. His fingers brush over your skin, gently massaging small circles.

“I understand,” he says with a grave tone. “I suspected as much. You don’t need to explain yourself, beloved.”

You smile in relief, misinterpreting his seriousness for support of your dual life as Spidey.

“I was going to tell you,” you say, your tone warm and reassuring. “Just… couldn’t find the right moment.”

Damian’s eyes soften, but a steely resolve glimmers within them as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering.

If the spider is the threat, then it’s the spider he’ll take down.

༻⊰───⋅

Thursday, 7:53 AM - Stark Industries, Gotham City.

Hours later, Damian pulls up to the sleek, glass-fronted Stark Industries building. The structure towers above, its façade a mesmerizing expanse of reflective glass panels that catch and scatter the sunlight, creating a dazzling play of colors. A polished steel entrance welcomes visitors, a bustling crowd already walking in and out.

As the car comes to a smooth stop, he turns to you with a soft, reassuring smile. You reach over, pressing an affectionate kiss to his lips.

His fingers gently brush your cheek as he murmurs against your lips, “Be careful.”

“I will,” you beam, pulling back to meet his eyes. “Promise.”

With one last lingering look, Damian reaches over to unlock the car door. You open it and step out onto the curb, unloading your bags. Damian gives you a final wave as he shifts the car into gear, gliding smoothly down the street and disappearing into the city’s bustling flow.

You clutch your bags tightly in your hands. Exhaustion pulls at your every muscle—patrol, the fight, and the travel have left you feeling like you're on the edge of collapse. After everything that went down last night, you can’t help but feel a bit relieved about the month off from school, courtesy of your internship.

Bags under your eyes betray the sleepless night, while the oversized shirt and sweatpants you’ve borrowed from Damian make you look more like you’ve just rolled out of bed than a professional intern.

Technically, you did roll out of bed, having snagged only about three hours of sleep.

How the hell did Batman and the Robins manage to juggle this kind of life week in and week out? Right now, you feel like death is just a breath away, waiting to claim you.

“Hey, kiddo!” Tony Stark’s voice calls out from a distance, cutting through your fog of exhaustion. “You planning to stand there and stare at the building all day?”

He steps out of his sleek convertible, tossing his keys to the valet with a flick of his wrist that’s more showmanship than necessity. As he strides towards you, his eyes do a quick sweep over your state.

“I offer you the top spot in my program, and this is how you show up?” Tony says, giving you a light shove on the shoulder.

You give a weary sigh and shuffle alongside him into the building. “Good to see you too, Mr. Stark.”

Tony continues with a smirk, “Don’t worry, you’re not the first intern to look like they’ve been dragged through a war zone.”

He leads you into the sleek, glass-walled elevator, pressing the button for the upper floors. The elevator hums softly as it ascends.

You turn to him, trying to muster the energy to keep up with his banter. “So, where’s Morgan?”

“Working on your new tech stuff,” Tony replies. “She’s buried under a mountain of circuits and cables. If you’re lucky, you might get to see her emerge from her tech fortress.”

The elevator doors slide open, revealing the upper floors of Stark Tower. Tony leads you down a pristine, modern hallway where glossy surfaces catch the ambient light, enhancing the tower’s futuristic vibe. He stops in front of a door adorned with a sleek plaque bearing your name.

You gawk at it, your sleep-deprived brain barely processing the sight. “Damn.”

Tony pushes open the door, revealing a spacious, elegantly furnished room. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the cityscape, and the room is equipped with a large, comfortable bed, a sleek desk, and a cozy seating area.

“Welcome to your new digs,” Tony says, gesturing grandly. “I’d say it’s a bit of a step up from your old place. Given your current state, though, I’d suggest you take it easy for now. Rest up, and maybe try to look less like you’ve just walked off a horror set, okay?”

Despite your exhaustion, a small but genuine smile tugs at your lips as you take in the surroundings. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. It’s really… nice.”

With a casual salute, Tony heads towards the door. “Anytime. Now, go on and get some rest. I’ll let Morgan know you’re here. If she manages to claw her way out from under her tech mountain, she might swing by to say hi.”

༻⊰───⋅

A few hours later, you’re well-rested and dressed in a much more presentable outfit: a crisp white button-up shirt with the first few buttons undone, tucked neatly into flared slacks, and paired with white sneakers.

After one last check in the mirror, you give your appearance a satisfied nod, then rub the last remnants of sleep from your eyes. You head out of your room and make your way toward the elevator.

Pressing the button, the elevator doors slide open with a smooth, hydraulic hiss. You step inside and swipe your ID card against the scanner. The elevator's high-tech screen lights up, displaying a seemingly endless list of floor options. You whistle as you scan the array, finally selecting the tech room.

Just as the elevator begins its ascent, a voice suddenly speaks up, making you jump with a startled yelp.

“Good morning!” the voice says cheerfully. “Welcome to Stark Tower. How can I assist you today?”

You quickly recognize the voice as FRIDAY, the building’s AI system. You’ve read about it in papers and seen it on TV before. The holographic interface on the screen activates, displaying a friendly, animated avatar of FRIDAY. The AI greets you with a warm, digital smile and a cheerful tone.

“Oh. Hi!” you respond, a bit thrown off. “I’m, uh, just heading to the tech room.”

“Understood,” FRIDAY replies smoothly. “I’ve already noted your arrival. The tech room is on your left once you exit the elevator. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can help with, sexiest vigilante.”

You blink at the nickname.

“That’s definitely Morgan’s touch,” you mutter.

The elevator doors slide open, revealing a workshop that looks like it’s been hit by a tornado of technology. Equipment is strewn everywhere, and tangled wires snake across the floor. In the center of the chaos, a few remains of a fire extinguisher lie scattered. Morgan is crouched in the middle of the mess, her hair a wild tangle and her face streaked with grease and soot. She’s working intently, completely absorbed in her task despite the disorder around her.

You clear your throat, and Morgan looks up, freezing mid-action. Part of her shirt is charred, and a small flame flickers from one of the devices she’s holding.

“Let’s be honest,” she says, waving a wrench at you, “you’ve seen me in worse shape.”

Shaking your head, you step into the room.

“Looks like you’ve been busy,” you remark, your eyes scanning the cluttered area.

Morgan quickly puts out the fire and brushes a few stray wires out of her path before standing up and stretching with a groan. “You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had. Between the latest tech malfunction and the mini-explosion, it’s been one chaotic circus.”

“Should I even ask what set off the explosion?”

Morgan chuckles dryly, wiping her hands on a grease-stained rag. “Oh, just a little experiment gone wrong. Nothing major. Just some excitement to kick off the day.” She steps over to you, grabs a case from a nearby workbench, and hands it to you with a grin.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued, as you take the case from her. With a click, you open it to reveal a pair of sleek, high-tech glasses.

Morgan plucks them from the case and holds them up with a grin. “For you. They’re packed with all sorts of features—real-time data, targeting assistance, and even advanced communication options. Basically, they’re your new best friend in the field.”

You slip the glasses on, adjusting them to fit comfortably. The world immediately sharpens, and a translucent display overlays your vision, showing various readouts and notifications. You gasp in awe, your amazement reflected in Morgan’s fond smile as she watches your reaction.

She then moves to grab another device—a metal-looking belt that covers your entire stomach. At its center is a spider emblem. She clasps the belt around your waist and gives it a reassuring pat.

“Tell it to go on,” Morgan instructs.

Confused, you turn to her. “Huh?”

“Just think of a suit wrapping around you and command it to do so.”

You give her a skeptical look but decide to give it a try. Closing your eyes for a moment, you focus on the idea of your suit materializing.

“Activate?”

Immediately, you feel a tingling sensation as nanoparticles begin to stream from the belt, enveloping your body. The sensation is oddly comforting, like being wrapped in a warm, secure embrace. The suit materializes in shimmering panels, stretching and shaping itself around your form. The glasses transform into a sleek helmet, molding to fit your head with a satisfying click.

The entire process takes mere seconds, and when you open your eyes, you’re fully suited up. 

The suit fits perfectly. The color is a deep, vibrant red that covers the majority of the suit. Black accents trace intricate web patterns that start from the center of your chest and radiate outwards.

The chest emblem is a bold, black spider, its legs extending across your torso and seamlessly merging with the web patterns. The helmet, now a sleek, black mask with a smooth, glossy finish, features white eye lenses that glow faintly. The same high-tech display you saw in your glasses is now visible in the helmet.

Morgan grins, clearly pleased with the result. “Not too shabby, right?"

"What. The. Fuck."

 ༻⊰───⋅

[luffysprincess]

LIE DETECTOR TEST : RENSUKE KUNIGAMI 

⊹ summary : the blue lock boys are invited to take a lie detector test, but they’ve got to answer twitter’s unfiltered questions

⊹ pairing : rensuke kunigami x reader (established relationship)

⊹ wc : 740

⊹ warnings : fem!reader with she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as a “girlfriend”, unedited, suggestive/nsfw. MINORS DNI

⊹ a/n : kunigami was highly requested and I’m sorry for such a long wait but I finally got the motivation to write his part!! lmk who should be interviewed next <33 ALSO if anyone has a reblog of bachira’s version pls send me the link. I never saved it before I deactivated my previous acc TT

⊹ isagi’s version | bachira’s version

Kunigami’s never been hooked up to a polygraph before. He’s never been in an interview like this before either. When the team’s PR manager introduced the idea to the team, Kunigami was rather excited for something so fun and unique. It’d definitely get them more attention and hopefully expand their fan base. Not to mention, he used to love watching those ‘answering your tweets’ interviews so he was looking forward to being on the other end of the screen this time. 

He, however, did not expect the fans to be so dirty minded. 

“Twitter user @/rensuckmyclit asks ‘How do you feel about breeding and how do I get myself a rensuke creampie??’”

He shouldn’t be so surprised, not after hearing what Isagi and Bachira had to answer but he was hoping he’d get some tame questions. How in the hell was he supposed to answer this?

It didn’t help that he could hear the two men beside him laughing at his expression, one of shock, confusion and embarrassment. But he’s made his bed and now he’s gotta lie in it or however the saying goes. 

“Yeah breeding is…nice, and uh you can’t?” his statement coming out as more of a question. 

All heads in the room turn to Milo, the polygraph examiner, curious to hear his verdict but are met with an old man frowning at his machine. “Inconclusive.”

“Maybe try saying more than just two words, idiot,” Isagi sarcastically adds as he punches his arm. 

“Don’t bother lying, Milo’ill catch ya,” Bachira adds, grinning mischievously at the ginger. 

“I’ll repeat the question for you: ‘How do you feel about breeding and how do I get myself a rensuke creampie??’”

“How are you even saying that with a straight face?!” Kunigami questions. “Ugh nevermind.…Breeding is uh…a yes for me.”

“So you’re into it?”

“Yes I’m into it,” he sighs.

“Milo?”

“Truth”

“And as for the second part of the question—god I can’t believe I’m about to say this on camera—,” Kunigami drags his hand down his face and mutters out the rest of the answer, “only Y/N gets a ‘rensuke creampie’.” He uses his free hand to form air quotes for the embarrassing term. 

“Y/N?” the interviewer questions.

“My girlfriend. Now can I get the next question before these two pass out? Megs looks like he forgot how to breathe– dammit its not that funny!” Hearing their usually collected teammate lose his temper over this only released another wave of cackles from the boys, contagious enough that even the polygraph examiner and the interviewer couldn’t hold back their chuckles. Kunigami can only huff in embarrassment as he waits for what’s next.

“Okay, okay… our next question is from twitter user @/kunigamisrightasscheekhairs.”

“What the fuck are these handles?”

“I think they’re creative,” Bachira snickers.

“They ask ‘What’s the weirdest thing you’ve been asked to sign?’”

Kunigami takes a second to reflect on all his fan interactions. Frowning, he hums in thought and just when he thinks he’s got answer he remembers an even odder instance. On the outside he looks like a fish opening and closing its mouth with nothing ever coming out until finally he sits up straighter to respond, “Someone once asked me to sign her tits.” 

“What’s the verdict Milo? Is he telling the truth?”

“Yup.”

“Well did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Sign the girl’s tits.”

“I don’t need to answer that so I won’t” Kunigami smirks at Isagi feeling smart but the blue eyed man just smirks back, “Well that just makes it seem like you definitely did. I wonder if Y/N knows about this. Should I tell her?”

Isagi is met with Kunigami’s playful glare and a series of curses thrown at him, all of which will be censored out when this episode is posted on BlueTube. 

However, the room is silenced when Kunigami goes serious. He turns to the camera with a straight face, “I’m only admitting this because I don’t want any false accusations of me cheating or anything going around. Yes I signed her tits. And yes Y/N knows about it. They were her tits. And because I know one of these two idiots will ask, yes we were dating at the time.”

“All true,” the examiner confirms but one look at Kunigami’s face would be more than enough to know if he was really telling the truth. Afterall, his face was turning redder than his hair. 

taglist:  @kazuubaby @satanblessing @saiki-enthusiast @nnasv @nymphsdomain @mitzukichan18 @celestair @ilovechuuyaa @mortallytenaciouskoala @tsumu-senpai @hweartiish

[takes1]

p.2 asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

this is gonna get so fucking good ya'll i love thisss!! it's fun writing this sweet guy be a little dirty lmao

warnings. nsfw. minors DNI info. nsfw / build-up to more smut / phone sex / mutual masturbation / blue balls / suggestive conversation / gentle giant!asahi / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / long-mid distance issues / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 2.3k words / multipart series so reply to be added to taglist! haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. part three here. final part here. more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

Your pencil twirled, tap-tap-tapping against your half-filled page of notes as you searched for the next header to copy for this dreadful, draining history class.

Anything to distract you from the fact that he hadn't called you.

The game was Tuesday- now it was Friday evening, and still, no word from him. Maybe you had something in your teeth when you spoke to him, or you smelled bad, or he just didn't like your hair. You had dedicated hours trying to figure it out.

A phone call was hard evidence he was interested in you. Practically a 'yes' to your fantasies, which had only gotten more unhinged with the hurt of this perceived rejection.

He still remained just a few minutes worth of your real energy on some ordinary day. But God, how you mourned for what could've been. How he would've filled you up, wrecking you with the satisfaction and excitement you yearned for.

buzz buzz. buzz buzz. buzz buzz. buzz buzz.

The sound initially deepened your already lackluster mood, because you learned to be disappointed with every call that wasn't from a Miyagi area code.

You were grateful that your eyes happened to glaze over the screen before you completed the swipe to ignore it.

A piercing scream of delight filled your entire house through a cracked bedroom door.

Tetsuro's unwanted, grating voice across the hall shattered your elevated state of bliss:

"SHUT UP!"

"YOU SHUT UP! I'M ON THE PHONE!"

You took a deep breath on the fifth ring and, shaking off the nerves by standing up out of your swivel chair, you swiped across the screen to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, is this (Y/n)?" A deep, rumbly voice made your knees weak.

"Y-es," Your voice cracked, tummy tingly, "Is this- Asahi?"

His name left your lips so well. You fell onto your back on your bed, pressing your thighs together at the sound of his reply.

"Yeah, that's me."

You hadn't heard his voice before, thinking hard about it now, because he didn't say anything to you in person.

"I thought you wouldn't call," You bit your lip in restraint, but kept the tension in your belly, "Why'd you keep me waiting for so long?"

A grumbly sigh on the other end gave you a full-body shiver. You crossed your legs.

"I was nervous," He admitted.

The giant did have a heart, after all. Curious, you smiled and looked up.

Your face fell.

"Get out of my room!" You shouted at Tetsuro, who was lingering in the doorway.

"How long have you been in here?!"

"I'm not in your room," He tested you by putting a foot inside, and didn't answer your question, instead pressing his own, "Who the hell are you talking to?"

It reminded you: A quick 'Hold on' and what you thought was the mute button--

You scrambled across your bed to the doorway to close it, but he dove out of the way and you ended up shutting him in. You flung it open again.

"Get out!!"

The demon-spawn was making for your phone, so you leaped onto his back and weighed him down to the floor instead.

"It better not be--," He grunted with effort as he shoved you off by the face, "Some country-bumpkin prick!"

There was no contact on the screen, so he couldn't be sure who you were talking to even with your phone in his hand.

"Who is this?" He interrogated, his torso leaning on your bed, his knee on your chest to keep you down.

You punched his leg over, over, and over again. He swatted at you while looking at your phone to figure out why nobody was responding to him.

It gave you the opportunity to push him off while his balance was uneven. You slapped your phone out of his hand and it clattered to the floor.

There was a violent hush over the two of you.

Tetsuro rose of his own accord, dodging a slap, and kicked your phone far under your bed with a grumble.

"Like I'm gonna just let that happen."

The door slammed behind him. You skittered up, opened it, then called after him, "Stay out!!"

You made sure to lock and barricade it this time.

When you leaned down to find your phone, it was impossible to reach with your hands or legs from either side of the bed. That asshole had made sure to kick it just far enough to make you get creative.

You had to tie together a ruler and a clothing hanger to retrieve it, then use your foot to leverage it out.

To your relief, the call was still active. But it wasn't muted.

Heart sunk halfway down your ribcage, you asked a grim question, "How much of that did you hear?"

His chuckle lifted your spirits instantly.

Almost as a conditioned response, you glanced to the door. It was still secure.

"I'm so sorry, my brother is the worst." You grumbled, climbing back into your bed with a sore face, hand, and knee.

Asahi's tone was clear and smooth.

"It sounds like he just wants to keep you out of trouble."

Your body jumpstarted again at that word. You wanted all the trouble he had to offer. You couldn't help but giggle, since his response sounded as if he was referring to himself.

"I know how to handle myself," You grinned, "I'm only a year younger than him."

"He's a senior, isn't he?"

"Mhm."

"So you're a second-year."

"Mhmm," You could listen to him talk all day. Your hand rubbed over your prickled chest, savoring his voice against your ear.

"Good. I feel like less of a creep, now."

In his admission you could hear his lips curl into a smile- your covered your mouth and kicked your legs in the air.

"Don't tell me you thought I was a first-year," You teased with false surprise.

"I-," He sighed, a little labored, and something shifted against the receiver, "Knew it was a possibility."

His standards aside, your interest moved to the extra sound on his end of the line. You prayed it was something risque.

"What else do you wanna know about me?" You stretched your legs up and watched your blank ceiling, biting your lip in wait for his response.

The way he towered over you- his frame was perfect for your fantasies. You imagined him leaning over you now, legs draped over his massive shoulders.

"What made you want to give me your number?"

Another shift, a heavy sigh. You couldn't raise the volume any higher, nor could you hold the phone any closer to your ear to try to hear what he was doing.

In the hopes that he was dirtier than he wanted to let on, you smiled at the freedom to paint his imagination.

"Hmm..." You drawled.

An eager hand dipped between your legs, with one last glance to the door, and you palmed yourself through your shorts while you spoke.

"Your serve really did it for me," As you recalled that last hit, you heard him shift again, "I like your look- y'know, the whole samurai vibe--,"

Asahi laughed a little, making you grin.

"-I think it's really hot."

A pause. "Wait- really?"

"Yeah!" You giggled, "You're a good mix of cute and scary, that's a huge turn-on."

"Wow."

Maybe it was a bit forward of you to say, but so was everything else until this point. Your breath stalled, hoping that was a good wow. It felt so quiet for so long. Everything was still on both sides.

You sat up after a few moments, pulse quickening, and you bit your finger to keep from blurting out another stupid claim. It must've been too much- you were just about to hang up when you heard a quiet, different tone through the speaker.

"What are you wearing right now?"

Mouth open, you made sure to click mute before squealing into your pillow-- when you came up, teary-eyed from the pressure and excitement, you had to catch your breath.

Your voice was slightly hoarse when you unmuted yourself and asked, calmly, "Do you want me to lie to you?"

Thrown in a dumbing whirl of arousal, you went to reach for a vibrator, but realized the sound would probably be too much. You opted for your own fingers instead and tried hard to visualize his heavy hand over yours.

"Shit-," He huffed an uneven sigh, "Go for it."

Did he have any idea how sexy he sounded? You hoped he did- you hoped he knew exactly how to touch you, pleasure you, break you, then put you back together.

Your raised, flirty tone didn't match your answer, "Nothing."

The rumble of his laugh guided your hand to swirl small, soft circles around your clit. Your chest rose and fell a little faster, chasing the budding tightness that was finally coming back to you.

"What are you doing right now?" You couldn't help but ask. It was too tempting to wait around for him to tell you.

"Mm, I'm talkin' to you," He evaded. His smirk was audible through the phone.

His slight regional accent was so perfect. To Hell with city boys, you wanted this big, gruff countryside boy.

He laughed at your whine.

"I wish you weren't so far away," His tone lowered to a bare mutter- it was dripping in lust, but he covered it with a thin veil of wariness.

Your fingers felt so good, but his reminder only made you more sensitive to how you could never fulfill the ache deep inside without him right here, in Tokyo.

You could appreciate how he still kept his cards close. You weren't as patient as him- but upon your inevitable frustration that he wasn't as candid as you, the realization that it was the safer outcome dawned on you. If he wasn't so careful, he might hurt you.

Still, you were riding gentle, pleasant waves while you daydreamed through your response.

"How long would a train ride be?"

He didn't have to tell you how pretty you sounded for you to know. The little raise at the end of your sentence, the tiny waiver in your voice, you knew he liked it.

The quiet seethe on his end confirmed this. He told you without having to look it up, "Hour and a half."

Your pussy practically shut down.

"I could do that," You lied. Your brother would explode if he found out you hopped on a bullet train by yourself to go see some Karasuno boy- and he would. He always did.

Another low laugh. It fixed everything. You threw your head back again, fingers in your mouth so your fingers could slide a little better.

"Don't sound so disappointed," He cooed, "Me and the guys are gonna be in town for the weekend- and I was just thinkin'--,"

"Oh my god, yes. Whatever you're about to say, yes."

His distant 'Damn' away from the phone made you blush. You stopped touching yourself, just for the time being.

"There's just one problem."

You waited for the reveal without responding, then realized he wanted you to ask him.

"What?" You giggled at the weird pause.

His laugh was faint through the rest of his point, "Your brother."

You squinted at your ceiling again with a grumpy sigh. He was right. In fact, you were sure he didn't know the extent of how right he was. Your family was on Life360, and he had your location at all times.

If you turned your phone off, or deleted the app, or put it on 'battery saving-mode' he'd know, and it would be more ground to question you on.

It wasn't the tattling that bothered you, it was his nosiness in the first place.

The last time you snuck out to go see a boy further in the city, he followed you and ruined your movie date by kicking the back of his chair for half of the film. He drove you home and grilled you the entire way back.

"Fuck," You sighed, sitting up with a bit of a tummy-ache from your abandoned orgasm, "Yeah."

It sounded like he was moving again, but he was less flirty, and it made you think he maybe put his dick back up to think better.

"He actually called our team captain, Daichi. We were uh, still on the way back from the game. On the bus. And he put it on speaker."

Your jaw dropped again.

"Said he'd- ha-ha, he said he'd castrate anyone who touched you."

An annoyed sound left you.

"Don't tell me you believe that," You laughed pitifully.

Part of you believed it, so you wouldn't blame him if he did. That same days-long disappointment was creeping back.

Asahi considered his answer. He landed on, "I think... ah, I don't know. I think being cautious is smart."

You nodded slowly, but he couldn't see.

"I still wanna see ya," He added.

You grinned, relieved, and a little aroused again at his drawl, "Good."

It still left the obvious problem. You deliberated on what you could do. A glance to the locked door gave you one idea. Another glance to the window elaborated on it.

How could you see him, not leave the house, and have your brother not know at the same time?

Your question was slow as you slid off of your mattress and started to test the reliability of your window frame.

"How good are you at climbing?"

taglist.

thank ya'll for supporting this!!! i love this series it's so fun to write so i'm glad other people do too!! reply to be added to existing list :)

@valiantqueengarden @rinheartshyunlix @alpha-mommy69 @yuyunhoo @insertamazingnamehere @kreishin

masterlist.

requests. (including what you might want to see in the next 2 parts)

[misfitgirlwrites]

Lucifer Having A Crush On You/How Would He React?

I'm not biased, I'm not biased, I'm not biased, I'm not biased, I'M NOT--

It's time for my fictional love and life and all I hold dear in my daydreams. Bitches, bros, nonbinary hoes, and genderfluid fucks, I present to you the Big Dick in Charge

I may reference works that I've read and when I do I'll drop their @ and link to their story it is law that you read it if you read mine, I don't make the rules

CW: none, slightly angsty but nothing too intense!

Alright, doves, this is post-season one. Lucifer now resides in the hotel with everyone and is slowly adjusting to being graced with Alejandro's Alastor's presence every day.

Let's be honest, our baby pays attention but puts in minimal effort. Saying that the days went by in a blur would be an understatement. Even conversations would be forgotten after a few short moments. On to the next task. Full focus on this thing. Once that's done? Well onto the next task! No tasks? Free time to spend with Charlie!

Things would start slow, and to really interact, you'd most likely start to approach him first. Maybe you've spent long enough watching the blond anxiously bounce around the hotel and graciously give himself a bit too much for even the Big Boss of Hell.

A timid approach from you, offering to help with whatever he's currently doing. Maybe you make snacks for everyone in the hotel and hand him his personally :)

And so it begins! A greeting here, a greeting there, slightly awkward conversations that slowly start to feel less forced with the little information you learn about each other along the way.

It's...nice! Refreshing! Lucifer would be more excited than anything and talking to you would become a part of his regular routine without much thought on the matter. You'd occasionally be on his mind just a little more, and he'd start to seek you out himself too.

I know you're already seeking him out. Bitch I'M seeking him out.

Helping with chores around the hotel quickly turns into simply enjoying the other's company.

One day you gift him his very own ceramic duck! You could have paid for it from somewhere or made it yourself.

Either way, he'd fucking LOVE it! Honestly, if you decide to try your hand at making it, he'd love it even more with all the rough edges and little bumps (it was made out of love for my babies who never touched clay in their lives)

In response, please expect many gifts in return. I like to think it's been a while since he's gotten a genuine gift like this

(Bonus headcanon: Charlie will see this and will come to you the next day with a list of things she wants to gift him and you two are unofficially officially the Buy Lucifer Anything Duck-Themed duo)

Lucifer loves how you react when he gifts you your very own rubber duck. Your smile and happiness always seemed contagious to him. It only led to him making/getting you more things.

You will have a rubber duck collection by the end of this, but what can you really say? Each one of them is based on something you mentioned before. A movie character, a book character, a cartoon character, even friends or family members if they were mentioned. The gesture is way too sweet for you to turn down, even if it is the 30th duck you've received.

Now prepare for what I like to call the "get along t-shirt" phase but both parties are willing LMAO.

Lucifer will be by your side as long as you'll accept the company and if you're reading this and we brain the same, that will be all the time.

I love the GenZ!Reader memes and fics. Someone show this man bacon pancakes and if it was already done, SHOW ME.

Between his relationship with Charlie and with you, Lucifer actually feels the need and wants to be a little more present bit by bit. He notices that he is spending less time in his head, but he continues on in fear of fucking it up if he thinks too hard about it.

So instead he'll 100% focus on the little familiarity of happiness, as small as those moments may be sometimes. This is EXACTLY why the thought of him potentially feeling romantic interest again goes right over his head.

Who notices first, you ask? Charlie, of course. You slowly but surely became one of his main topics in conversation, it wasn't hard for her to pick up on it and ask.

Baby boy would straight up deny it at first. Him?? Liking someone else??? LMAO, am I right? Of course, after he does this, he'll have the time to actually pay attention to his actions.

So then he'll notice how excited he is every morning knowing that you'll be the first face he sees. He'll notice how he managed to fit you into any task he had to do. When he'd get lunch for himself and Charlie he'd have the automatic thought of making something for you as well. Even when the day was over, he'd be thinking about spending the next day with you. To be frank, you were constantly on his mind. 

Once he notices it's a big mental "fuck". Nothing about you is wrong of course, it's him, or so he thinks.

Let's start with the elephant in the room, or shall I say the ring on his finger lmao

In Lucifer's mind, he's still married technically. Even thinking about it in a technical term was a new development and it made him feel absolutely horrible. Lilith left, sure, but who knows what happened? Regardless of how he felt, he didn't want to hurt her.

But at the same time what about him? Lucifer hasn't been happy in a long time and he's finally building that again, not just with Charlie, but with you as well. He didn't want to just cut you out, he didn't want to hurt you either.

Plus, did you even like him? How would he even approach you? If he wanted to, even after thinking about everything.

Who was he kidding, of course, he still wanted you!

@liveontelevision *drops to my knees and bows* they worded it extremely well here and if you're reading this but you haven't read this already or you clicked the link then clicked back here, go back and read it. I don't care how long it is. Do the thing then come back.

Welcome back. It was good, wasn't it? I know.

The only awkward period for you two is the week-long contemplation of everything (half him attempting not to do what he always does when stressed but by the time he realizes he already made like 30 ducks--)

He would clearly go out of his way to either try and talk to you or avoid you. Or a cute mixture of both where he makes a scene approaching you, realizes he's not ready yet, then makes a scene so he can disappear *finger guns*

A little crisis here, a few little rubber ducks there, and a looooonnnggg conversation with Charlie and Maggie Vaggie.

Those are the ingredients to a semi-stable Lucifer with enough bravado to talk to you normally again.

He'd apologize for the times he basically pulled a Houdini in your face and he'd explain himself fully, all while also confessing his love for you.

It's choppy, it's fast-paced in some areas, and the poor blond was ready to disappear at any given moment, but that's what made it so real for you.

The weight that's lifted off of him couldn't be described, and neither could the joy that welled in him the moment he saw your beautiful smile and heard nothing but your acceptance and love.

What an emotional roller-coaster, am I right?

Lucifer Taglist: @alastorssimp @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @heart-of-the-morningstar

Requests are open! If you'd like to be tagged in future Lucifer or Hazbin Hotel content, please let me know! My asks and DMs are open to all!

[notjustjavierpena]

Ofrenda

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Happy Day of the Dead to all of my followers! I hope you’ll take this time to reminisce about the loved ones that you have lost, and smile when you think of them. I thought of my mom the whole time while writing this, and it makes me sad to know that I live in a country where we view death so gloomily when life should be celebrated. I have written this with utmost respect for the Mexican tradition, trying to do endless amounts of research. I have also written this with endless gratitude to be able to express my love for Javier and his family as well as my own mother at the same time. We never get enough time together, so this beautiful holiday is so heartwarming. Hope you like it ❤️!

Summary: You make an altar with your family for Javier’s mother during Día de Los Muertos.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18, depictions of grief, loss of a (grand)parent, family dynamics, so much love in this little family, domestic bliss, non-explicit descriptions of sex, love confessions

Word count: 3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60151243

Ofrenda

You are in the kitchen, cutting the stems of marigolds on an angle into the sink. The scent of the flowers is citrusy and slightly spicy, complimenting the lemon cookies that are in the oven and nearly done. Beside the sink lies several bare stems too because Lucas is holding a bowl of their petals in his small hands. 

He shows it to Inés, “You need to take a handful.”

“But I want cookies,” she only looks down into the bowl of orange for a moment before her attention turns to the oven, her little hands reaching out until you manage to stop her. She makes a noise of complaint but the mood of the room makes her dial down on how much she wants to fuss about it.

“The cookies are not for us!” Her brother replies with a serious look in his eye, clearly feeling authoritative in the task at hand, “They’re for Abuela (Grandma).”

“I’m sure you can have a few of them. She won’t mind,” Javier declares with a chuckle as he enters the kitchen too. His presence makes you smile to yourself, another burst of citrus filling the room as you cut yet another collection of flowers. You’ve filled almost two vases with them, have chosen the ones decorated with your favorite patterns, and fluffed them to look like two balls of sunshine. 

“But she needs them. If she doesn’t get them, she doesn’t know where to go,” Lucas insists with a pout when his father crouches down between the two of them. He gives a look of concern as if he is the only one taking this seriously. You look over your shoulder and feel a flash of pride at how sensitive a boy you have made, but you don’t intervene because you know Javier has the situation under control. 

“Sí, mijo (yes, my son),” he places a hand on the back of his son’s head, pulling him in to kiss his hair, “They’re for her but I am sure she’ll be happy to see you enjoy them too. She liked sharing with whom she loved.”

“Cookies for grandma and Inés,” Inés says proudly as if she finally understands the importance of the baked goods. Lucas’ expression eases a little as he stares at his baby sister’s longing but then he says her name. 

When she whips her head around, he shakes the bowl of flower petals, showing them to her again. You can see how much Javier loves how he is taking this to heart. 

“Just a little handful, okay?” Lucas encourages. 

Inés’ little fingers dig into the petals, bringing up a much larger fistful of the bright orange marigolds than intended. She stares at them with wide eyes, enchanted by the strong color. Her little mouth falls open with a quiet pretty and she nods seriously. Lucas nudges her with his elbow, directing her back to the task, “Come on, we gotta put them on the ofrenda (altar) so Abuela knows we remember her.”

They exit the kitchen and make their way to the small altar you’ve set up in the living room. You check the timer on the oven but there’s still eight minutes to go, so you and Javier take a vase of flowers each and carry them to the table that’s been draped with a bright, woven cloth, and adorned with pictures, candles, and memories of Javier’s mother. 

As you set down the vase of marigolds, you spot the tiny figurine that you have come to know so well too; a figurine of La Virgen de Guadalupe. She stands by the picture of Javier’s mother, face tipping towards her as a silent protector. The photograph of her is from when she was young enough to be just a few years out of high school, smiling widely with her dark hair tied back like you have seen so many times in other photos. She looks so much like Javier and how you remember her from the very first photo you saw of her, the one that you sneakily glanced at back at Don Chucho’s ranch on Javier’s desk in his teenage room. The one that the figurine stood guard over. That was before you knew what kind of life awaited with her son but you’re sure it was when you realized what kind of husband he would be. 

Javier sets down his vase as well, his eyes lingering on the photo of his mother for a moment before he busies himself with adjusting the flower arrangement, testing out a few angles. You touch his shoulder in silent support and smile gently at him. It earns you a little smile in return, one that seems full of gratitude and love. 

“You okay?” You mouth. 

Javier nods. He finally lets go of the vase and at the same time, a deep breath of air, suddenly satisfied with his work because his heart feels lighter. Not long after, he leans in to kiss you briefly on the lips, eager to make you giggle as he steals another peck while you complain about being covered in specks of flour and sap from the flowers. It’s messy, you say. He thinks you’re perfect. 

As you draw away from each other, Inés and Lucas scrunch up their faces and crinkle their noses at the display of affection. However, even so, you can see the tiny smiles hidden behind the mock outrage. They stand by a little impatiently as they watch you smooch, a drizzle of orange petals trailing Inés due to her getting distracted and forgetting they’re still in her hand. 

“Inés!” Lucas has the same exasperated look on his face as earlier when he notices the mess. You said earlier that it would be Inés’ first year of joining in on creating the altar and understanding its purpose, and Lucas has taken his role in it very seriously. He is clearly feeling the responsibility of teaching her the tradition right now. 

“Sorry,” she drags out the word, a guilty expression on her face, and tries to bend down to scoop some of the petals into her palm again, only seeming to increase the mess. 

Lucas puts down the bowl of petals to help her, coming off as slightly distressed. He has furrowed his brow as he concentrates, acting as if the entire success of this moment is relying on him, “Abuela can only visit if you put the flowers on the table!” 

“Luke,” you crouch down after exchanging a look with Javier. You soothe your son by running a hand up and down his back, “Abuela is always with you. This is just to do something extra special for her.” 

“But what if she can’t find her way?” Lucas asks with concern on his face as he puts down the bowl and starts gathering marigold petals, “We have to make it special.”

“Mamá’s right, we are making it special, mijo, because of all the care you’re putting into this. That’s what’ll guide her here tonight, not whether the cempasúchiles (marigolds) are perfectly placed on the table,” Javier reassures gently and crouches down beside the two of you, Inés mirroring him immediately. All four of you start picking up the remaining petals from the floor and Lucas visibly relaxes a little more, reassured that things might not be catastrophic after all. 

Your husband takes Inés’ small hands in his and guides her through the process of gently scattering the flowers across the table, their vibrant color standing out beautifully against the crisp white cloth. The orange and gold complement the papel picado on the wall behind the altar too. 

“Flowers for Abuela,” Inés scans the sight before her and then claps her hands with a big grin. She beams with pride, so much so that even Lucas finds her joy infectious and smiles as well. Inés points her little fingers to her work, “Making it special!”

“She’ll see those flowers and know you put them there for her,” Javier explains, still crouching on the floor next to Inés. She leans into him. He wraps his arm around her and pulls her even closer so he can plant a little kiss on her cheek, tickling her with his mustache until she giggles.

“Did Abuela like flowers, too?” Lucas asks and moves onto his father’s other side, resulting in him also getting dragged closer. From the look on Lucas’ face, you can see that it has been his plan all along

“She loved them,” Javier answers with a reminiscing smile, “You remember how many flowers there are in Abuelo's (Grandpa) garden, don’t you?”

“Yes!” Both Lucas and Inés say right after each other.

“Abuela planted them and she loved them just as much as she loved lemon cookies,” their dad recalls fondly and there’s a twinkle in his eye as he adds, “Well, almost just as much.”

At the same time, the timer in the kitchen dings. Inés whips her head in your direction expectantly and you laugh softly as she itches to tell you to get a move on, 

“I’ll get the cookies,” you say to make Inés sparkle with glee. You give Javier’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before slipping back into the kitchen. You can hear your children chatting softly with their father as they stay by the altar.

In the kitchen, you take the cookies out and place them on a cooling rack, enjoying the familiar scent of sugar and butter that wafts through the kitchen. The cookies are still very hot to the touch but you carefully transfer a bunch of them to a plate. 

“Here we go,” you say as you reenter the living room. 

“And she had this laugh… Oh, when you really got her going, it would echo through the whole house,” Javier shares. 

“Like Mom,” Lucas says and follows you with his eyes.

“Much like Mom, yeah,” Javier agrees and you smile shyly as all eyes land on you. They have shifted to sit down on the floor in front of the altar, moments ago staring up at the colorful display while Javier told stories of his mother. Now, the three of them have stopped talking when they see you place the lemon cookies on the table, anticipation on their faces. 

“Hola, esposa (hello, wife),” Javier says with a soft smile, the kind that makes your cheeks warm because you know he loves you. 

“There are plenty of Abuela’s favorites left in the kitchen,” you say as you take four cookies from the plate and make sure the rest of them look presentable. Then you kneel down next to your family, handing each of them a still-warm cookie, “Careful, they’re still hot.”

With the altar complete, the four of you sit together on the floor, a quietness settling over you. Between the picture of your mother-in-law, the lit candles flicker and cast soft, dancing shadows. The combined scent of the marigolds and the lemon treats makes the room smell lemony and spicy, and small decorative butterflies catch the eye between the paper banners. 

Inés nibbles on her cookie, looking deep in thought, so you reach out to brush her hair out of her face. Her soft voice finally asks, “Do you miss her, Papá?”

Javier stops right as he is about to take another bite of his cookie. He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment. It seems like a gut punch but one that he has learned to expect from having small children. He thinks for a second then nods. When he speaks, his eyes are shiny as they prick with tears and you can hear a slight trembling in his voice, “I do, baby. I miss her every day.”

Inés looks shocked at having caused her father to cry. She puts her cookie down on the floor and you quickly scoop it up. She crawls to sit in front of him on her knees, wiping away a tear that has made its way down his cheek after reluctantly escaping the corner of his eye, “Are you sad?”

“Yes, sometimes,” he breathes and looks down, sniffs, “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to say sorry,” Lucas argues, looking to you for reassurance. 

You nod and move to sit closer to Javier, pulling him into an embrace which he returns by holding your arm. You look at your son while resting your chin on top of Javier’s head, “Go on, Luke.”

Lucas takes a moment to find the right words, visibly skimming through the lessons you have taught him to find the one that applies here. He joins the hug, “Mom says that it's okay to feel sad when we miss someone because it means you really love them… It makes me feel good to miss Mom when I am at school because then I remember her.”

Inés, who has been quietly observing, joins as well. She rests her head against his shoulder, "We love you, Papá."

“I love you too,” he says and the words seem to give him a little courage, “Of course, it makes me sad, mija (my daughter). But having you, your brother, and Mamá here. It helps.”

“I know I say it all the time but I wish I could have met her,” you chime in and kiss the top of his head repeatedly, trying to keep it together yourself, “She sounds like an amazing woman.”

“Inés and I wish that too!” Lucas adds, “We can do this every year!”

“Make cookies!” Inés exclaims excitedly. They both eventually pull back after remembering the baked goods. Returning to lemon cookies laid out near the ofrenda, they chew happily. You snicker at Inés' excuses to eat anything sugary and squeeze Javier tightly before drawing back too.

“I think she’d like that,” Javier sighs with a little smile, taking in the picturesque view of his family.

A few more minutes pass and you gently remind your children of the time, “Alright, it’s getting late. Let’s say goodnight to Daddy and Abuela.”

They exchange hugs and kisses with their father, and then - while she is perched on your hip - you hold Inés near the altar. Both of your kids lay their palms on the table, talking gently.

“Goodnight, Abuela,” Inés says and pats the cloth.

“We love you,” Lucas adds tenderly.

They follow you upstairs to brush their teeth, wash up, and get into their pajamas. You finish bedtime routines with much more hugs and kisses, tucking the both of them in and thanking them for a nice day. Inés still has questions about her grandmother but you tell her that it’ll need to wait for tomorrow. When she seems restless, you trace your finger over her face until she dozes off. 

When both kids are asleep, you return downstairs dressed in your own sleepwear. You find that Javier has cleaned the kitchen and is sitting on the couch in the living room. He glances at the ofrenda out of the corner of his eye, looking thoughtful and melancholic. You can see how much Inés resembles him in the evening light. 

You silently go to sit down beside him, holding his hand between the two of you. 

"Thank you for today," he says softly, leaned back into the sofa and his head turned towards you, "For helping the kids understand."

“You are so wonderful with them,” you reply with a gentle smile, "They love her because you love her, and because she's a part of who you are."

“Still, I couldn’t do this without you, mi vida (my life),” he stresses and inches closer, slowly removing the gap between the two of you. You lean in and rest your forehead against his, a sigh of relief escaping him at being so close to you, “You make everything better.”

You don’t respond with words. Instead, you close the remaining distance between you and your husband, kissing him lovingly in the glow of the altar and the moonlight shining in through the window. 

Yet Javier seems to have more in mind when he reaches up to cradle your cheek with his large hand. He rubs his thumb along your cheekbone, eager as he deepens the kiss. It earns him a chuckle from you as you draw back slightly.

“Not in front of your mother,” you whisper to tease playfully. 

“She’d probably tell me to make sure I’m treating you right,” he laughs quietly, thumb still caressing your face, “Keeping you happy.”

“Then you are succeeding,” you tell him with sincerity, keeping all the playfulness he has ignited at bay to show love instead. He responds by getting up from his seat and pulling you by your hand, making you giggle girlishly as he brings you to blow out the candles for the night while whispering in your ear. 

Then he leads you upstairs and makes love to you, slowly and passionately. It’s all long, slow kisses and quiet gasps as you arch your back when he touches you to orgasm. He knows you inside and out, what you need, and what you feel. You’d like to say that it’s the same the other way around, that you know him just as deeply. 

In the afterglow, you rest your head on his chest and feel his hand caressing your hair. His heartbeat is slow, his breathing almost steady again. You look up at him and feel so much affection that your head swims. An idea pops into your head in the beautiful clarity that follows being with him like this, “Tomorrow we could go to the cemetery if you like. We could take your dad too and get him to bring some flowers from his garden.” 

“I’d like that,” he replies, his fingers playing with and brushing your hair to the side absentmindedly, “Pop would appreciate that. It’s been a while since we all went together during Día de Muertos. Yeah, let’s do that.”

“That’s settled then,” you kiss his chest.

“Fuck, I love you, esposita (my little wife),” he says happily, absolutely in disbelief at your perfection. 

“I love you too,” you respond with a shy grin.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[xoxochb]

⋆·˚ ༘ * only bought this dress so you could take it off (take it off!)

warnings: iykyk…

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of hades and persephone

series master list

this time aphrodite wasn’t here to help you get ready which disappointed you in a way. this time percy’s mother helps. a plus side was that your brother would still be walking you down the aisle

“does it feel weird not living in your palace?” asks sally

“well I lived there my whole life. I don’t think I ever liked growing up in royalty though, my father was always controlling of me and my siblings”

“so I’ve heard”

you nod your head. “it was awful. my sister even moved out when she was of age. I don’t speak to her often either but I’m hoping I’ll be able to visit some time”

“I didn’t know you had a sister?”

“melinoe. she’s a goddess”

“minor?”

“very. my parents kind of wanted her to be kept a secret but I suppose I told you so it’s not really a secret anymore” you laugh

sally finishes tying your hair back and puts her hands on your shoulders. “you look lovely. percy is very lucky”

your cheeks flush a pink hue at the mere mention of your soon-to-be husband. good gods of olympus— if someone told you a month ago you would be marrying him instead of his brother you would’ve laughed in their face. yet here you are. you can’t help but feel nervous about this, yes you had been seeing percy since you were twelve and you were beyond comfortable being in this relationship but what if he didn’t feel that way? gods this whole marriage was your fault, I mean you’re only eighteen what if it was too early? did he actually not want to get married?

“oh, dear. you look like you’ve seen a ghost”

“I don’t think I thought things through”

sally frowns and sits on the bench beside you. “nervous?”

“yes. do you think percy really wants to get married? or is he just saying it so I can be happy?”

“(name), marriage is the only topic he has been able to stay on since it happened. I can assure you he is over the moon about this”

you feel tears brewing in your eyes but you quickly push them back to prevent ruining your makeup. “really?”

“yes, darling. I’d never lie to you”

you open your mouth to speak but the door opens, revealing your brother. “we’re starting in five”

you turn back to sally and mutter a quiet ‘thank you’ before exiting the room with nico and you begin walking out to the double doors leading to the beach

“take two” nico jokes, holding his arm out for you to link yours with, instead you throw your arms around him, without a doubt he returns the embrace

“thank you, nico”

“for what?”

“for being my brother”

“well then you’ll be happy to know I’ll always be your brother. even if you decide you hate me”

you pull away with a sigh and loop your arms through his. “I think I’m ready”

“promise me something”

“anything”

“you’ll visit me in the underworld”

“I will. I’m sure percy isn’t very welcome there anymore though”

you both burst out into an uncontrollable laughter. when you try to get any words out your stopped but your inability to breathe

“oh my gods— imagine dad’s face!”

the image of hades seeing your boyfriend husband fills your mind, making you lose any breath you had left. you decide to add onto the fit, “do you know— how dad was so eager to get me married-” you breathe out “he was obsessed with triton I’m starting to think he likes him more than mom”

“now that’s a wedding I would like to attend”

when both of your breathing steadies back to normal you collect yourself and wipe the slight tears that streamed down your face, fixing your hair to assure you like presentable for guests

“okay I’m ready for real now”

“then let’s get you married!”

you take in one last deep breath before opening the double doors and walking out onto the platform covering the sandy ground. the scent of salt water fills your scenes instantly. this time it wasn’t because of your asshole ex husband. this may have been the most nerve wracking part of the wedding— people watching your every move, but when your eyes meet a pair of sea-green ones your nerves feel at peace

when you finally make your way to the altar you hug nico once more before ushering him to his seat, then taking both percy’s hands into yours to prevent them from shaking anymore

“strapless dress? how’d you know those are my favorites?”

your cheeks flush red and you roll your eyes. “shut up”

“want me to save the dirty talk for later? I understand, my mouth is sealed”

when everyone finally settles the officiate begins speaking all that nonsense that they say at weddings. you’ve never actually been to one but you supposed if you were in the crowd this might have been the perfect opportunity to take a nap. he talked on and on for what felt like forever until the vows and until the ending kiss— your personal favorite part. when he finally said the iconic ‘you may kiss the bride’ you were sure you’ve never seen percy move as fast as he did then, quickly throwing your arms around each other into a very non-audience appropriate kiss which on a normal day you would’ve scolded percy for but you were to happy to care about anything right now

ੈ✩‧₊˚

you didn’t end up getting home until around midnight unfortunately. and you should have seen it that the moment you got walked through the doors percy would be eagerly sliding your dress zipper down. you made him wait however— finding it amusing every time you pulled his hands off you, making him wait until you were in your shared bedroom. after what felt like percy’s whole life (he was sure it had been) he was able to unzip your white dress

“you’re quite eager” you laugh. percy ignores your comment and slides your dress off once the zipper was undone, you fumble with your legs to throw it on the floor, then connect your lips back with percy’s as you unbutton his white shirt

“have I told you that you look gorgeous tonight?” he mumbles into your mouth, making butterflies erupt into a frenzy in your stomach

“fifteen times”

when finally you unbutton the rest of the shirt you tear it off and throw it to the side— you only hope it didn’t hit anything important. percy then slides his hand from your bare waist to your underwear, and slowly slides them down your legs. you know for sure you’re not getting even a second of sleep tonight

@azure-drag0ness @itzmeme @leathesimp @pevenxie @mp-littlebit @inclusivesimping

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:23」 — k.yeosang

» ateez menu | yeosang menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ reaper!Yeosang × fem!Reader wc: 2.3k summary: When an aneurysm in her brain ruptures, killing Y/N, she is faced with a reaper who has come to collect her soul but she might have just discovered a way to cheat death. genres/themes/au: mild angst, smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, major character death mentions of: death, afterlife, slight religious panic; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i don’t have much to say about this lol Yeosang is hot, him as a reaper is a concept. Id’ fuck him if it meant I could escape my fate lmao. Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider reblogging or supporting my writing through my ko-fi, linked on my pinned post! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. 

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), corruption kink (f receiving), cock worship (m receiving), dom!Yeosang, sub!Reader, unprotected sex (don’t. do. this), oral (m receiving), handjob (m receiving), use of pet names (babe, sweetheart, etc.), and that should be all but as always, let me know if I missed some! kinks: Corruption kink + cock worship dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Have you never been touched like this before? ❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

No one is ever ready for death. No matter how prepared one thinks they are, it still catches everyone off guard. But while you can prepare for the death of a loved one or a pet, no one really tells you how to prepare with your own demise.

You were now faced with this as you stared at your corpse, collapsed and crumpled on the floor of your living room. You didn’t even know what happened. One minute you were sitting there watching television and then you got up and then it all went black and you came to like this, standing there, staring at your body.

“What the fuck, man?” 

You walked over, kneeling beside your body and reached out to touch it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice said from behind you, causing you to jump and turn quickly to see a man standing behind you. He wore a plain black suit, a gray waistcoat over a white button up shirt and a black tie. He had light colored blondish hair with bangs swept back to show his forehead. His eyes were a piercing gray color and he wore a stoic expression.

“Wh-who are you?” you asked, your voice soft as you stared at him. You watched as he tilted his head, giving you a quizzical stare. “I’m Yeosang,” he said simply. “Okay, Yeosang,” you said as you slowly stood up straight. “What are you doing in my apartment?” Yeosang narrowed his steely eyes before responding. “You’re dead,” he stated.

Rolling your eyes you scoffed. “Well, no shit, Sherlock,” you snapped. “What does my being dead have to do with you being here?” Yeosang stuck his hands in his pockets as he stared back at you. “Because it’s my job,” he answered. ‘Job?’ you wondered to yourself. ‘What job?’

“What do you mean by job?” you asked, voicing the question that plagued your thoughts. Yeosang stared at you silently for a moment before he finally spoke. “My job is to escort the dead to the afterlife,” he explained. “You’ve passed and now it’s time to ferry your soul to the afterlife.”

“I’m a reaper.”

Your eyes widened as he spoke. He took a few steps forward, putting him only a couple paces away, he removed his hands from his pockets, holding one of them out, palm facing up. You watched as a dark ball of mist appeared, starting to swirl slowly. It gained momentum, swirling faster and faster, the center becoming more and more dense. A small bolt of electricity crackled and just like that a scythe appeared. He caught it with one hand, grabbing the lower part of the handle with the other and held it firmly.

“Whoa,” you said, eyeing the sharp, pointed end of the curved blade. “That’s a pretty big sickle you got there. What’re you gonna do with it?” you said softly as he approached you. “It’s a scythe,” he corrected you. “And I’m going to kill you.” 

You stared at him, holding his gaze for a moment. “Buddy,” you started, glancing down at the scythe. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m already dead.” Yeosang glanced down at the body on the floor and back to your soul. “I know that,” he said, sounding equal parts confused. “Then what do you mean kill me?” Yeosang stood back up, moving the scythe to rest the bottom of the staff on the floor.

“When you die,” he said, gesturing at your body lying on the floor. “You get assigned a reaper,” he continued. “And that reaper comes to take your soul to pass on. Most of the time, souls have unfinished business, this is how you get ghosts.”

You stared blankly at him as explained. “You have no unfinished business,” he added. “You are completely ready to pass on.” Your brows furrowed. “No the fuck I’m not,” you retorted. “I didn’t even want to die. I simply got up from the couch. How the hell did that kill me?” you asked incredulously as you gestured at your body.

Yeosang walked over, passing you to slowly kneel down, inspecting your corpse. “Aneurysm,” he said softly. He looked up at you. “A blood vessel in your brain ruptured. It’s usually preventable,” he continued as he got up. “But if it ruptures, only immediate medical treatment can save you,” he added, walking towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve been dead for too long.”

You looked down at his hand on your shoulder, surprised you could even feel anything. “You’re touching me,” you whispered. He glanced at his hand and then pulled it away. “My apologies,” he said. “It was meant to be reassuring.” He started to walk back to the spot he’d been standing before but you grabbed his hand, catching him off guard. “How am I touching you?” you asked, looking up from his hand to his eyes.

“Because we’re the same,” he answered, sounding surprised. “We’re both specters.” You glanced back at your body. “Is there no chance of pleading for my life with you?” you asked, turning back to look at him. “Well,” he started, pulling his hand from your grasp and running his fingers through his hair.

“Yes,” he replied. “Technically you could be returned to life,” he added. “Even with the ruptured aneurysm?” you asked. Yeosang shrugged. “By restoring life to you, it would reverse the rupture but the aneurysm would still be there.” You glanced at your body then around your apartment. “So if I return to life, will I forget all this?” you asked, turning to look at him once more.

He shrugged. “Maybe?” he said, sounding uncertain. “I’ve never restored someone to life before,” he replied. “I just know it’s possible. But I can’t just go around reversing death and granting people more time. You have to make a bargain,” he added. “A bargain?” you asked, perking up.

“Yes,” he answered. “What kind of bargain?” Yeosang hesitated. “I uh… don’t know. I’ve never done it before. Do you have any reason why you absolutely cannot pass on?” He stared at you blankly as he waited for your answer. Did you have anything holding you back? You had no children, no pets, no one relied on you to care for them. All you knew was that you weren’t ready. Wasn’t that reason enough?

You looked back at him. “I…” you trailed off, voice breaking before clearing your throat and trying again. “I’ve barely even lived,” you started softly. “I’ve never even left the country. I’m… not ready to go.” Yeosang’s stoic expression softened at the sound of your wavering voice. He wasn’t supposed to do this. He wasn’t supposed to give second chances but there was something in your voice and he couldn’t help but feel a little bad for you.

“Alright,” he said, snapping his fingers. You jumped slightly in shock when the scythe in his hands disappeared in a black mist that quickly dissipated. “If you can convince me, I will give you a second chance at life.” The moment the words left his lips, a look of pure joy came over your face. “Oh, really?” you exclaimed. Yeosang nodded before holding up a hand. “But you have to convince me.”

“Not a problem,” you said, moving to stand in front of him.

Yeosang watched as you lowered yourself to your knees. He’d seen this act before. He was no stranger to people begging on their knees but what he hadn’t expected was for your hand to move up his thigh, palm resting over his crotch. His breath caught in his throat. “Wh-what are you doing?” he choked out as you started to palm over his cock.

“You said to convince you,” you answered with a shrug as you continued. Yeosang’s cheeks burned as he could feel himself starting to grow hard under your touch. “I didn’t mean…” he trailed off as your hand gently cupped his growing erection, squeezing slightly. His eyes fluttered shut, a soft gasp leaving his lips. “Have you never been touched like this before?” you asked suddenly.

He looked down to meet your gaze. There was a hint of amusement in the semi smirk you had on your face. Yeosang shook his head. “N-no,” he stammered. You looked up at him, your smile widening as you continued to stroke him over his pants. “Let me change that then,” you said softly, moving your hands up, fingers working to undo the clasp and zipper of his pants.

Yeosang let out a groan as your hand slipped into his pants, grasping his semi hard cock, pulling it free and starting to stroke him slowly. “I.. f-fuck,” he moaned, head falling back as you took the head of his cock into your mouth, tongue swirling around before pulling back with a slight popping sound. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a really pretty cock?” you asked, hand gliding over the shaft faster.

“N-no,” Yeosang gasped, unable to form a proper sentence. “Well, you do,” you whispered, giving the tip a slow lick. “Probably the best looking cock I’ve ever seen.” Yeosang’s cheeks burned, a tinge of pink to them as you took his cock back into your mouth. He groaned as the tip of his cock reached the back of your mouth, nearly crossing into your throat.

“Holy hell,” he gasped as you pulled back, his hips bucking forward to chase the feeling of your warm mouth. You chuckled as you pulled back, hand moving up to the head of his cock. “I still can’t believe you’ve never done this before,” you said softly, watching as he looked down at you through heavy lidded eyes. “I don’t have the —” he let out a hiss as you gave the tip of his cock a lick, grinning at his reaction.

“I don’t often get the chance to engage in — oh god!” he groaned loudly, head falling back as your mouth enveloped his cock once more. His hand moved to the back of your head, fingers slipping between locks of your hair. “D-don’t stop,” he gasped as your head bobbed faster, the wet sound of his cockhead hitting the back of your throat.

You knew he was close when you felt his cock twitch in your mouth and you quickly stopped, pulling his cock from your mouth. “As much as I’d like for you to cum in my mouth,” you started, stroking him slowly. “I think it’s only fair that you get a taste of what you’re missing,” you said softly. “What are you – yah!” Yeosang started before being tugged down to his knees. You pushed him back onto the wooden floor, quickly ridding yourself of your pants before climbing over his lap.

“On your back, sweetheart,” you said softly, pushing against his chest. He leaned back as you moved, settling over his cock. You reached down, grabbing him and lining the tip with your slit before slowly sinking down on him, letting out a moan as his cock stretched you, your cunt greedily sucking him in. Yeosang let out a guttural moan, eyes rolling to the back of his head as you settled, his cock fully inside you. “I knew it,” you said with a soft chuckle.

“Knew what?” the reaper asked, raising his head. “That your cock would feel even better inside me than it did in my hand,” you replied, leaning over to place your hands on the floor on either side of his head as you lifted your hips. His hands gripped your waist tightly as you lowered yourself back down, his cock sliding back into you, making both of you moan loudly.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” you said with a crooked grin. Yeosang looked up at you through half opened eyes, his hair starting to stick to his forehead. “I don’t care if you finish what you started,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I just need you to move,” he added, trying to move your hips along, a hint of impatience in his voice.

“Do that and you can consider our deal fulfilled.”

You chuckled lightly as you leaned over to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Oh come on,” you said with a smirk. “We’re only just getting started, babe.” You lifted your hips again, sinking back down and setting a steady pace, keeping your eyes on his face as his brows knitted together, his face contorting in pleasure as your walls clenched around his cock, hugging it tightly.

Each drag of his cock had you groaning as you felt the tension begin to build in your lower belly. “F-fuck,” you cursed, your thighs starting to burn. “I need a second,” you said breathlessly. Yeosang let out an impatient noise, almost a whine as he tried to buck up into you.

“My thighs burn. Just let me have a second,” you chuckled but let out a yelp as he sat up, knocking you onto your back as he grabbed your hips and started thrusting into you harshly. Each snap of your hips had you crying out as he slammed into you repeatedly. “Fuck, shit, calm down!” you gasped as you felt your orgasm approaching rapidly. “M’gonna —”

You didn’t have time to warn him as you came, your cunt convulsing around his cock and spurring his own climax. You could feel his hot cum gush out of him, coating your walls as he pumped you full. After one final thrust, he let out a moan he’d been holding back, collapsing on top of you as you both tried to regain control of your breathing.

“So… our deal is fulfilled?” you finally panted as you stared up at the ceiling of your apartment. “Yes,” Yeosang said as he lifted his head. “On one condition,” he added, his gaze meeting yours. “You let me come visit you from time to time cause that was amazing.” A smile crossed your face as you reached up, running your fingers through his hair. “Can I fuck you when I’m back in my body?” you asked curiously. He shrugged, staring down at your lips. “No idea,” he answered.

“Only one way to find out.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[alienpossession]

You have to do more Mike and definitely explore some shenanigan with Steven back home. And maybe explore the trainee system more like what apushforfolly did in the original version. Love everything you do!

In regards to Mike, well, he did pretty solid for the cause despite Master's departure to the States. The nerd that stayed behind witnessed at first how Mike wasted his potential and charms with endless parties and lonely workout, so one particular night, the nerd intervened during dinner

"You have to go back to your root. Look inside that meat puppet's mind to find his essence as a human and exploit it for the cause, don't just waste your time with aimless parties as if you're still not the Master's subject. He will be disappointed seeing you wasted such a good puppet, you know?"

"Oh, you wanna see me working? You wanna see me utilizing all the charm this puppet has? Just so you know, we travelled from light years away, I deserved some break. But if you challenged me, well, even the entire city can be under my control,"

"Well, I'll let your action and achievement speaks for itself," the nerd said as he left the dinner table, not interested to see Mike any longer unless he brought some tangible proof of his success

----

The following morning

"So it seems like someone is back to his good old routine once again, no more travelling for a while, I'm staying put, so it means I have some more time available for me to kickstart my online coaching program once again. I'm looking for 8 people who are willing to bust their ass and ready to give 100% effort in order to take that physique to the very next level. You will be working with myself, my team, we will guide you along the way and coach you for over 16 weeks period so this will take you up to the end of this year. If you find this interesting, click the link below--"

And as the story ended, the nerd blew his load all over his sweatpants as his thoughts already went ahead with the idea of Mike subduing all the 8 clueless men thinking they'll get better physique with the help of a renowned fitness coach only to be turned into mindless, docile puppets. And that's exactly what happened as the updates started to appear in his chat between Mike for the next couple days. It surely didn't help that the Mike's puppet really managed to drive the points home with his detailed description on the takeover or what kind of conversation he is having with the prey, either on the way to the takeover, mid-way the process or after the whole thing. For example, this video Mike sent to the nerd right at the same night of Mike's morning call for participants drove the nerd to breaking point as Mike said

"Finally, you look better with mini-mes swimming inside your brain, you were so dumbfounded at first when I spat on you huh?"

"Yeah fuck that, you know Joshua is a bit gay for ya, that spat turned him on LOL!"

"Well, you clearly looked quite eager, Josh. Maybe you do like my spit *proceed to spit to Josh gaping mouth, which Josh reciprocated with swallowing it and then licking his lips*"

Right when Josh lunged to Mike for a sloppy kiss and what probably happened right after, the video ended as Mike grabbed his phone right in time to end the videos.....

Several times, rarely though, Mike even boldly have a video call in public with the puppet in tow to describe what went down to the nerd

"Hey there dweeb, I know you know this daddy. Exactly, Frederick is now part of our little collectives! Are you around? We are in his usual cafe where you eyed him a couple weeks ago editing his Youtube content, do swing by if you wanna get stuffed by his dad's cock, yeah you pervert, you watched a good and harmonious family vlogger to lust over the dad and thinking how you can corrupt him, well here he is ready to pummel your mouth with his musty cock fresh from his workout regimen with the reliable Mikey,"

Of course the nerd ran for his life to the cafe 3 blocks from his office upon receiving the video, but again, that's not really a normal occurence as Mike mostly just sent a picture with accompanying short caption after his conversion, like when he described the first puppet he converted after the "call for clients" video released

"Happy to inform that there's a brand new controller inside Leon Walker,"

You gulped as your face turned beet red as you found yourself unable to swallow your lunch due to the shock you got from the text message that just casually popped up in your phone.....is he for real?

"Yeah, I know you subscribed to his OnlyFans, well, look at how helpful I am for you by turning your favorite content creator to give you free, even better and outlandish performance for private! Come join us later tonight in my penthouse for the exhibit! I know you've been commenting how insanely hot it will be for Leon to suck his own cock while getting his butt plugged, well~~~"

Other times, the message that accompanied the possession tend to be even shorter

"Explaining the hierarchy of the puppet to the recent convert, he was such a tool that only knows how to workout, he should be thankful that an alien takeover his body,"

Or "greedy muscle beast of a fucker got what he deserved, turned into 270 lbs bottom bitch with no more free will for a boutique gym boy like me," which caused the nerd to burst out in his day job's office bathroom upon receiving the update

Yet, as explained before, Mike loved details so, when the client is extra special, he went on to great details explaining the whole sequence. For starter, when he explained how he took down Mike's hometown best friend

"You should have seen his face when I slapped the cold slimy alien right to his ear mid-workout. He is Mike's best friend from his previous lives and my memory is so vivid, I can really tell that they both loved each other but simply not informed, some kind of unreciprocated love. And the thing is, the love is reciprocated, they just didn't mention it to each other when they still could. Or maybe it's all just my made up story LOL, both of them are straight as an arrow and he even married last year to this beautiful woman which he will abandon as he is only going to serve Mike now. I mean, you really have to feel that tight hole of his, it's surreal, and that made him a great asset to have around with me. Truly a tale of two best friend finally connected once more and become inseparable ever since"

But there's nothing that prepared the nerd for Mike's latest conquest, as the nerd wakes up this morning to the news that the startup he worked for just got bought by a VC and the deal was finalized last night. The company's messaging app turned chaotic as "CEO Office" released a rather cold statement that there will be a townhall later today to explain on what really went down and what's the direction forward for the startup while all the staffers, even some of the upper management, frantically communicated with quite colorful words among each others.

The nerd tried to contact Mike to explain to him about this dire situation and whether Mike has solution to get the nerd's out from the predicament, but much to his surprise (and sick arousal), Mike sent a video around 30 minutes ago with the simple caption of

"See you in the office"

His softening morning wood went hard once again as if there's a button being pressed and he instantly started to leak as he realized what Mike did. Is Mike for real? His own CEO? The nerd knows that his boss is hot but this is something they discussed before, that he wanted to have an environment where there's no alien whatsoever and just people doing regular jobs to keep some semblance of normalcy in an otherwise crazy world of the extraterrestrial debauchery. Seems like Mike didn't keep that part of the agreement with this breach, but deep down, he's very much aroused that Mike finally didn't listen to him and even went against his wish. As another picture appeared from Mike followed with the sign of him typing another message, the nerd looked at his screen anxiously

"This was yesterday, moments before disaster, for him obviously. In the next 24 hours after this picture is taken, he's braindead, divorced his wife with a simple text message and sell and exit his beloved startups to pursue a lifelong passion for converting people to Master's way outside of this cramped desert country and having a nerd licking his body dry and practically become his live-in servant as they travel across the world. The question is, will the nerd resign from his boring human job and join his braindead former boss he fantasized every night?"

Then, the phone rings, it's his CEO, and he clearly knows what's his answer gonna be

------

Will make Steven's later, wow so happy that some of yall are still excited for this series! Keep the suggestion coming!